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THE  MASTER  -  SPIRIT 


"'Alexia — has  the  time  come?'"     (Page  163.) 

The  Master  Sfiirit}  \FrontisfUce 


THE    MASTER 
SPIRIT 


BY 
SIR  WILLIAM   MAGNAY 

Author  of11  The  Bed  Chancellor,"  "A  Prince  of  Lovers,"  etc. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  JOHN  CAMERON 


BOSTON 
LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 

1906 


Copyright,  1906, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 


Att  rights  reserved 
Published  October,  1906 


grfntrra 
8.  J.  PABKHILL  &  Co.,  BOSTON,  U.  S.  A. 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGK 

I  A  DWELLER  IN  DARKNESS          .         .         1 

II  THE  HISTORY  OF  A  COMPACT      .        .        9 

III  A  SOCIETY  SENSATION         ...      23 

IV  THE  DUCAL  POINT  OF  VIEW       .         .       37 
V  THE  MAN  WHO  GUESSED     ...       50 

VI  THE  MAN  BEHIND       ....       63 

VII  THE  FIERY  ORDEAL    ....       70 

VIII  THE  VAUX  HOUSE  CASE     ...       81 

IX  ALEXIA'S  DENIAL        ....      88 

X  A  SENSATIONAL  APPEARANCE      .        .       94 

XI  HERRIA'RD  AND  ALEXIA       .        .         .     102 

XII  THE  PROFESSOR  is  PUZZLED        .         .113 

XIII  A  MAYFAIR  COUNSELLOR     .        .         .     126 

XIV  THE  TRAGEDY  DEEPENS      .        .         .     140 
XV  A  HALF-WON  VICTORY        .         .        .152 

XVI  NEARING  A  CRISIS       ....     162 

XVII  AMAZEMENT          .....     175 

XVIII     RESURRECTION 187 

XIX  HERRIARD  STANDS  ALONE           .        .196 

XX  THE  SOLUTION  OF  THE  MYSTERY        .     204 

XXI  THE  MASK  FALLS        .        .        .        .214 

XXII  THE  STRUGGLE                                          229 


2136957 


VI 


CONTENTS 


CHAP.  PAGE 

XXIII  THE  WAYS  OF  MAYFAIR     .  .  .240 

XXIV  HERRIARD'S  CONFESSION     .  .  .    247 
XXV  A  RIOT        .        .        .        .  .  .259 

XXVI  ALEXIA'S  VISITOR        .        .  .  .265 

XXVII  THE  END  OF  THE  INTERVIEW  .  .     274 

XXVIII  THE  FACE  IN  THE  Box      .  .  .285 

XXIX  A  PORTENT 297 

XXX  THE  LAST  MEETING  308 


THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 


CHAPTER  I 

A   DWELLER   IN   DARKNESS 

THE  light  on  the  Clock  Tower,  that  cheerful  beacon 
which  assures  Britons  that  good  and  picked  men 
are  kept  from  their  beds  to  raise  the  standard  of  their 
liberties,  and,  incidentally,  their  taxes,  had  just  gone  out, 
sharply,  as  though  glad  to  announce  to  yet-stirring  Lon- 
don a  respite  from  the  babble  of  lawmaking;  and  the 
great  workshop  of  Westminster  where  the  artisans  are 
so  many  and  busy,  and  the  results  perhaps  so  meagre, 
discharged  its  crowd  into  the  illuminated  night.  Out 
they  came  hurrying,  for  the  hour  was  late:  the  sitting 
had  been  animated  and  prolonged,  and  even  professional, 
to  say  nothing  of  casual,  politicians  are  nowadays  too 
busy  in  wasting  the  nation's  time  not  to  set  a  high  value 
on  their  own.  Out  they  streamed,  still  chattering  and 
arguing,  as  became  the  priests  in  that  great  Temple  of 
the  Tongue,  those  of  them  whose  voices  were  seldom 
heard  and  never  listened  to  in  the  House  talking  the 
loudest  outside;  a  varied  crew  typifying  the  component 
parts  of  their  country's  greatness.  Ministers,  bent,  fine- 
drawn and  unkempt,  as  men  whose  ceaseless  rolling  of 
Sisyphian  stones  gave  no  time  to  spare  for  the  clothes- 
brush,  superior  Under-Secretaries,  some  dapper,  others 

l 


2  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

affecting  a  soul  and  a  mission  above  the  niceties  of 
costume,  all  far  more  important  than  any  Prime  Minis- 
ter who  ever  lived,  and  displaying  a  pretty  contempt 
for  those  of  the  rank  and  file  who  took  upon  themselves 
to  criticise  the  conduct  of  the  debate;  then  the  mob 
of  hungry  politicians,  keen  hustlers;  here  sharp-faced 
wood-cutters  in  the  tangled  forests  of  the  Law,  each 
with  his  axe  to  grind;  there  egotistical,  opulent  trades- 
men, members  by  virtue  of  contributions  to  the  Party 
coffers,  and  with  a  never-sleeping  eye  on  the  Birthday 
Honours  list;  now  smart  men  of  leisure  gained  by  their 
fathers'  toil,  merely  adding  the  House  of  Commons  to 
their  clubs;  and  so  on,  with  here  and  there  a  single- 
minded  politician  who  imagined,  misguided  man,  that 
he  served  his  country  by  supporting  his  own  shade  of 
opinion,  seeking  nothing  for  himself,  and  getting  noth- 
ing— but  influenza  and  the  privilege  of  leaving  to  his 
party  the  legacy  of  an  inconvenient  bye-election. 

"Capital  speech  of  yours,  Herriard.  Won't  do  you 
any  harm."  The  speaker  was  a  genial,  middle-aged 
man  of  fashion  who  liked  to  be  in  the  House  as  he  liked 
to  have  the  entree  everywhere,  and  to  stand  well  with 
everybody  from  the  Premier  to  the  latest  blatant  labour 
member. 

"Glad  you  liked  it,  Sir  Henry.  I  was  rather  afraid 
I  should  be  squeezed  out  after  Darrell's  interminable 
effort,"  answered  Herriard,  as  he  swung  himself  into  a 
hansom.  "Can  I  give  you  a  lift?  " 

"Thanks.  No.  My  man  ought  to  be  here.  Many 
congratulations.  Good-night. " 

Herriard  nodded  and  leaned  back.  "Park  Lane,"  he 
called  out  to  the  driver.  As  the  cab  turned  out  of  the 
courtyard  the  more  brilliant  lights  of  Great  George 


A  DWELLER  IN  DARKNESS  3 

Street  fell  upon  the  face  within  it,  that  of  a  young  man, 
interesting  enough,  handsome  and  not  without  char- 
acter, which  latter  trait  was  perhaps  just  then  more 
strongly  accentuated  than  usual  by  the  illuminating  ex- 
pression of  the  hour's  success.  It  was  a  face  more  in- 
teresting by  its  suggestion  of  possibilities  than  by  any 
marked  indication  of  actual,  present  power. 

A  short  distance  up  Park  Lane  Herriard  dismissed 
the  cab  and  walked  on.  On  his  left,  under  a  crescent 
moon,  the  Park  lay  slumbering  still,  and,  save  for  a 
few  nocturnal  prowlers,  lifeless:  in  vivid  contrast  to  the 
still  busy,  if  languid,  roll  of  traffic  on  the  other  side  of 
its  railings.  Herriard,  walking  briskly,  turned  up  Hert- 
ford Street,  and  presently  taking  a  little  used  thorough- 
fare, made  his  way  deep  into  the  intricacies  of  Mayfair, 
that  curious  maze  of  mansions  and  slums  where  Peers 
live  next  door  to  slop-shops,  and  the  chorus  from  a 
footman's  Free-and-Easy  at  the  public-house  across  the 
street  may  keep  awake  a  dowager  countess  or  weave 
melody  into  ducal  dreams. 

At  the  end  of  an  out-of-the-way  spur  from  what  was 
half  street,  half  mews,  Herriard  stopped  before  the  old- 
fashioned  portico  of  a  house  the  frontage  of  which,  at 
any  rate,  was  squeezed  up  in  a  corner,  giving  at  the 
same  time  a  suggestion  of  greater  expansion  at  the  back. 
A  curious  eighteenth  century  residence,  built  on  uncon- 
ventional and,  with  regard  to  space,  ingeniously  utili- 
tarian lines;  a  house  that  nineteen  out  of  twenty  passers- 
by  would  fail  to  notice  and  the  twentieth  would  stop 
to  wonder  at,  since  the  genuinely  quaint  has  of  late 
years  in  London  given  way  to  the  hideously  regular  or 
the  pretentiously  unconventional.  As  he  reached  the 
projecting  doorway,  Herriard  turned  sharply  and  glanced 


4  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

back  down  the  short  street.  He  was  alone  there;  ob- 
viously no  one  without  special  business  would  be  likely 
to  pass  that  way.  Then  he  took  out  a  latch-key  and 
let  himself  in,  passed  through  an  octagon  hall  hung  with 
rare  tapestry,  went  up  a  broad  staircase  so  heavily  car- 
peted that  no  footfall  could  be  heard,  gave  a  slight 
knock  at  one  of  the  doors  on  the  square  landing,  and 
went  in. 

If  the  hall  and  stairway  were  marvels  of  costly  dec- 
oration, the  room  Herriard  had  entered  was,  particu- 
larly in  contrast  to  the  house's  dingy  exterior,  a  still 
greater  revelation,  and,  in  its  bearing  upon  the  character 
of  the  inmate,  should  have  a  short  word  of  description. 
The  walls  were  hung  with  dark  crimson  silk  of  which, 
however,  little  could  be  seen  between  the  exquisitely 
toned  frames  of  the  multitudes  of  striking  pictures, 
mostly  or  all  of  the  French  school,  with  which  it  was 
covered.  But  the  whole  tone  and  furniture  of  the  room 
were  French,  and  French  at  its  most  ingenious  and  its 
quaintest.  The  eye  fed  on  a  mass  of  art,  simple  and 
applied,  never  flamboyant,  and  subdued  with  such  skill 
and  taste  that  the  sense  of  crowding  and  profusion  was 
kept  from  obtruding  itself.  Everything  was  novel,  un- 
expected, and  yet  logically  fitted  to  its  place,  and  the 
general  toning-down  effect  was  aided  by  the  many 
exquisite  bronzes  which  were  placed  with  an  artistic 
eye  about  the  room.  To  make  an  end,  the  ceiling  was 
a  radiant  specimen  of  Angelica  Kaufmann's  brush-work, 
showing  so  little  age  that  the  newer  glories  below  could 
not  kill  it,  and  the  floor  was  covered  with  a  rare  Au- 
busson  of  a  design  that  invited  and  yet  defied  analysis. 

Projecting  from  one  side  of  the  room  was  a  singular 
piece  of  furniture,  half  bed,  half  sofa,  with  a  fantastic 


A  DWELLER  IN  DARKNESS  5 

canopy  arranged  on  carved  supports,  and  with  a  cover- 
let of  the  finest  silk.  On  this  couch  lay  a  man.  The 
face  that,  with  the  exception  of  a  long  thin  hand  rest- 
ing on  the  silken  coverlet,  was  all  that  could  be  seen 
of  him,  showed  a  man  of  singular  power  and  character. 
The  impression  which  this  vivid  personality  gave  might 
be  summed  up  in  one  word,  concentration:  intense  con- 
centration physical  as  well  as  mental.  The  dark  eyes 
seemed  to  scintillate  as  under  the  high  pressure  of  a 
fully  charged  brain.  The  black  hair  was  clinched  close 
to  the  head  in  tight,  crisp  curls,  the  thin  lips  were 
compressed,  the  whole  being  seemed  to  palpitate  with 
concentrated  vitality,  and  yet  it  was  a  wreck,  or  why 
was  he  lying  there? 

He  welcomed  Herriard  with  a  smile  which  held  more 
than  mere  greeting. 

"You  are  late,  Geof.     A  field-night  of  course.    Well?  " 

Herriard  took  the  hand  that  was  raised  towards  him, 
then  wheeled  round  a  chair  and  sat  down. 

"I  got  on  all  right." 

"That's  well.     So  you  did  speak?  " 

Herriard  nodded.  "And,  I  think,  made  every  point 
you  gave  me.  They  beat  us  by  only  thirty-three. " 

The  dark  eyes  lighted  up  with  malicious  triumph. 
''Good!  That  's  a  nasty  rap  for  Master  Askew.  We 
had  the  logic  and  they  the  numbers,  eh?  " 

Herriard  gave  a  short  laugh.  "Certainly  we  got  in 
our  hits  every  time. " 

"That's  as  it  should  be." 

"They  were  feeble,  and  not  over-confident  after  the 
first  hour.  It  was  quite  fun  to  watch  them." 

"Weaklings!  Fancy  losing  their  nerve  and  half  their 
majority.  What  are  such  sheep  good  for  but  to  follow 


6  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

their  leader  through  the  hedge?  I  wish  I  had  been 
there. " 

A  look  of  almost  passionate  regret  crossed  the  man's 
face  as  he  spoke  the  last  words. 

"I  wish  you  had,  my  dear  Gastineau.  We  would 
have  had  more  fun  still,  and  they  more  funk. " 

"Congreve?  " 

"Spoke  for  twenty  minutes.  An  exhibition  of  the 
superior  person  in  the  throes  of  embarrassment.  That 
point  of  yours  about  the  repudiation  of  the  Colonies 
hit  them  hard." 

"Ah,  you  made  the  most  of  that.  Good!  Congreve 
the  Superior  could  not  touch  it?  "  He  spoke  eagerly. 

"Touch  it?  He  could  not  get  near  it.  I  wished  after- 
wards, as  I  listened  to  his  floundering,  that  I  had  elabo- 
rated it  still  more." 

Gastineau's  thoughts  seemed  to  be  far  away;  as 
though  he  were  living  in  the  scene  his  brain  recon- 
structed. "I  don't  doubt  you  did  very  well,  my  dear 
boy,"  he  murmured,  still  preoccupied.  Suddenly  he 
flashed  out  with  a  spiteful  laugh,  "The  pattern  Robert 
Congreve  at  a  loss!  His  Baliol  quibbles  at  a  discount 
for  once.  Faugh!  A  brilliant  party  to  depend  for  its 
allies  upon  the  callow  prigs  of  the  Oxford  Union !  Ah, 
to  be  back  again!  to  be  back  again!  "  His  clenched 
hand  rose  and  fell;  he  gave  a  great  sigh  of  impotence. 

"It  is  hard  on  you,  old  fellow,"  Herriard  said  sym- 
pathetically; "cruelly  hard.  As  it  is,  I  only  wish  that, 
as  your  proxy,  I  could  do  you  more  justice. " 

The  look  of  almost  savage  impatience  on  Gastineau's 
face  had  given  place  to  a  quiet  smile  as  he  replied. 
"I  could  not  find  a  better  man  for  my  purpose,  Geof. 
We  must  both  of  us  have  patience,"  he  gave  a  short 


A  DWELLER  IN  DARKNESS  7 

bitter  laugh.,  "a  virtue  that  you  should  find  easier  to 
practise  than  I,  since  its  exercise  need  last  but  a  short 
time  with  you,  while  I  must  die  of  it.  But  the  savoir 
attendre  pays,  Geof,  both  in  the  House  and  at  the  Bar. " 

Herriard  smiled.  "That's  just  as  well,  since  one  has 
no  option  but  to  wait." 

Gastineau  gave  a  quick  shake  of  the  head.  "Many 
men  won't  wait;  they  can't  play  the  game.  The  world 
thinks  they  are  waiting,  and  they  flatter  themselves 
so  too.  But  they  are  really  out  of  it,  Geof.  They  have 
shot  their  bolt  and  missed.  Why?  Because  they  were 
in  a  hurry.  Then  there  are  others,  like  this  fellow  Con- 
greve,  who  get  pushed  up  by  the  stupid  party  that 
mistakes  academical  show  and  froth  for  real  power. 
They  manage  to  keep  balanced  on  their  pedestals  by 
the  weights  of  self-advertisement  and  self-confidence. 
They  act  upon  the  well-known  ethical  principle  that 
the  majority  of  mankind,  being  fools  too  lazy  to  think 
for  themselves,  will  appraise  a  man  at  his  own  value, 
if  only  he  will  take  care  to  proclaim  the  precious  figure 
in  season  and  out.  If  I  were  a  living  instead  of  a  dead 
man,  Geoffrey,  I'd  blow  that  fellow  out  of  the  water 
in  which  he  swims  so  complacently. " 

Perhaps  it  was  his  glance  at  the  malignant  face  be- 
neath him  that  made  Herriard  remark,  "You  are  a 
good  hater,  Gastineau. " 

In  an  instant  the  sinister  expression  had  relaxed. 
"Yes,"  with  a  half-apologetic  smile.  "I  hate  prigs 
and,  above  all,  the  superior  person,  with  his  impudence 
in  assuming  a  rank  in  the  human  category  to  which 
he  is  not  in  the  least  entitled.  Ah,  well,  you  shall 
smash  him  up  for  me  one  of  these  days,  Geof.  I'm 
going  to  make  a  real,  a  brilliant  success  of  you.  When 


8  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

you  are  perfect  in  your  guard,  I  am  going  to  teach  you 
how  to  hit  still  harder." 

"It  is  very  good  of  you." 

"Nonsense!  If  you  knew  how  much  of  selfishness 
there  is  in  my  tuition  you  would  not  give  me  much 
credit.  I  should  n't  expect  you  to  let  me  use  you  as  a 
mask  for  my  battery  were  it  not  that  the  benefits  of 
my  marksmanship  go  to  you.  There,  that 's  enough  of 
that.  Now,  about  these  briefs.  I  have  looked  through 
them. " 

"They  are  all  simple  enough,  eh?  " 

"  Absolutely.  In  Slater  v.  Sudbury  Tramway,  though, 
I  should  make  a  strong  point  of  the  contributory  neg- 
ligence and,  as  a  second  shot,  cross-examine  closely  as 
to  the  father's  actual  income  and  financial  position  and 
prospects.  I  see  they  claim  six  thousand.  A  glorious 
British  jury  is  pretty  sure  to  find  against  you,  and  your 
best  point  will  be  to  suggest  a  try-on  and  go  for  miti- 
gation. There  you  are." 

He  gave  Herriard  the  parcel  of  briefs  with  an  en- 
couraging smile  and  nod  of  confidence.  "Now  you  had 
better  turn  in,"  he  said,  "or  you  won't  be  fit  for  Court 
in  the  morning.  Who  tries  the  tramway  case?  " 

"Gartree." 

"That  old  fool?  He  will  probably  misdirect,  and  give 
you  a  second  chance.  Good-night,  my  dear  boy.  So 
glad  you  scored  to-night. " 

They  shook  hands  affectionately,  and  in  another 
minute  Herriard,  in  spite  of  a  long,  exciting  day,  was 
walking,  with  the  brisk  step  of  that  elation  which  knows 
no  fatigue,  towards  his  rooms  in  Mount  Street. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   HISTORY   OF   A   COMPACT 

THREE  years  earlier  there  had  been  an  appalling 
railway  accident  between  Cordova  and  Seville. 
Two  tightly  packed  trains  had  come  into  collision,  with 
results  that  had  prevented  even  the  Spanish  officials 
from  hushing  up  the  contretemps,  and  had  sent  an  electric 
wave  of  shudders  over  the  whole  news-reading  world. 
Among  the  second  division  of  its  victims,  the  danger- 
ously, even  mortally,  wounded,  there  appeared  one  name 
at  least  which  added,  in  England,  at  any  rate,  to  the 
sensational  interest  which  for  nearly  a  week  the  affair 
induced.  It  was  that  of  the  most  prominent  coming 
man  of  the  day,  Paul  Gastineau,  K.C.,  M.P.,  a  man  who 
had  indeed  arrived  and  who  was  bound,  in  French 
phrase,  to  go  far.  Lay  politicians  were  fond  of  quoting 
one  another  that  a  man  of  such  marvellous  brain  power 
and  capability  for  hard  work  had  the  easy  and  certain 
reversion  to  the  Woolsack:  members  of  his  own  branch 
of  the  profession,  if  they  did  not  agree  with  the  fore- 
cast, let  it  pass  unchallenged;  while  there  were  many 
grains  of  intentional  truth  in  the  chaff  indulged  in  by 
the  other  branch  when  they  would  declare  that  the  so- 
licitor, who,  having  a  fighting  case  on  hand,  failed  to 
retain  Paul  Gastineau,  laid  himself  open  to  an  action 
for  negligence. 

For  Gastineau  was  above  all  things  a  fighter,  and 
one  who  fought  with  his  brains  as  well  as  with  his 

9 


10  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

tongue;  a  distinction  which  they  who  know  courts  of 
law  will  readily  appreciate.  An  awkward  adversary, 
ever  in  deadly  earnest,  who  always  fenced  with  the  but- 
ton off;  his  enemies  and  defeated  opponents,  and  they 
were  many,  said  not  too  scrupulously;  but  he  fought 
to  win,  and  usually  did  win,  leaving  mere  niceties  and 
quibbles  to  the  schoolmen;  and  to  have  the  knack  of 
winning  means  much,  if  not  everything.  It  meant  much 
for  Paul  Gastineau.  He  became  the  most  talked  about 
man  at  the  Bar,  and  his  enemies  being  too  human  to 
let  his  praises  pass  in  silence,  simply  added  their  voices 
to  the  babble  that  made  him  known.  Our  forefathers 
wTere  stupid  enough  to  regard  the  envy,  hatred  and 
malice  that  attend  on  success  as  something  of  a  draw- 
back; a  toll,  they  called  it,  paid  for  being  eminent:  we 
know  better,  and  nowadays  the  wisely  successful  man 
regards  his  detractors  as  a  valuable  asset  in  the  working 
capital  on  which  he  pursues  the  business  of  eminence. 

Parties  in  the  political  world  do  not  look  far  or  seek 
beneath  the  surface  for  their  allies.  Perhaps  they  are 
too  busy,  or  too  lazy;  not  to  suggest  that  they  are 
too  stupid.  Anyhow  they  have  a  well-defined  leaning 
towards  ready-made  reputations:  the  practice  may  be 
expensive  and  exacting,  but  it  saves  trouble.  Once 
Gastineau  had  become  an  established  success  his  Party 
found  that  they  could  not  do  without  him,  and  to  that 
success  and  to  that  discovery  did  a  very  worthy  and 
somnolent  brewer,  whose  legislative  faculties  appeared 
to  be  somewhat  clouded  by  the  fumes  of  his  own  ale, 
owe  his  more  comfortable  place  of  repose  in  that  hon- 
ourable, if  shunted,  wagon-lit  called  the  House  of  Lords. 
Eminent  forensic  lawyers  are  often  failures  in  Parlia- 
ment, and  Gastineau  was  clever  enough  at  the  Bar  to 


HISTORY  OF  A  COMPACT  11 

make  wiseacres  pretty  sure  of  his  falling  short  in  the 
House.  But  the  shortsighted  soothsayers  who  judge 
the  individual  from  the  aggregate  had  made  no  allow- 
ance for  a  certain  quality  which,  beyond  his  grit,  his 
talent,  and  his  power  of  concentration,  was  to  be  an 
important  factor  in  the  success  which  he  forthwith  be- 
came. They  forgot  that  he  was  not  altogether  an  Eng- 
lishman: there  was  Southern  blood  in  his  veins,  a 
warmer  tinge  to  his  mind;  he  had  the  vivacity  and 
intellectual  chic  of  the  Italian  added  to  the  determination 
of  an  Englishman.  So  he  rose  almost  at  a  bound  to  a 
high  position  among  the  legal  members  of  the  House, 
and  with  that  his  position  seemed  assured. 

Naturally  when  it  was  seen  that  this  distinguished 
man  was  among  the  victims  of  the  Spanish  railway 
smash,  something  like  a  thrill  ran  through  the  country 
which  was  the  stage  of  his  career.  Society  speculated 
as  to  the  extent  of  his  injuries  and  his  chance  of  recov- 
ery; his  own  profession  believed,  many  of  them  hoped, 
that,  even  if  he  did  recover,  his  flight  would  thence- 
forward be  a  drooping  one,  while  our  old  friend,  the 
man  in  the  street,  always  ready  with  an  obvious  moral 
platitude,  made  much  of  the  impending  sword  which 
Fate  hangs  over  the  heads  of  even  the  most  brilliantly 
successful  of  poor  humanity. 

Meanwhile  in  a  poor  monastery  near  an  obscure  Span- 
ish town  Gastineau  lay  battling  with  characteristic  de- 
termination to  keep  at  bay  Death  who  stood  over  him. 
When  he  had  been  extricated  from  the  wreckage  of  the 
train  he  was  placed  aside  on  the  ground  to  await  means 
of  removal  to  the  improvised  hospital;  and  he  had  lain 
there  in  what,  to  a  man  of  his  character  and  ambition, 
far  exceeded  the  bitterness  of  death.  His  spine  was 


12  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

injured,  he  felt  no  pain,  was,  indeed,  scarcely  conscious 
of  the  strange  numbness  and  deprivation  of  all  mus- 
cular power.  But,  after  the  first  stunning  shock,  his 
mind  had  become,  even  for  him,  abnormally  clear  and 
alert,  the  change  from  lethargic  dizziness  had  come  like 
the  clearing  off  of  vapours  from  the  sun.  "Thank 
Heaven,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  "this  is  the  end,  the 
lightning  before  death;  if  only  it  will  come  quickly,  for 
all  is  over  with  me. " 

So  in  a  state  of  savage,  resentful  impatience  he  lay 
there,  looking  up  at  the  stars,  all  unconcerned  in  their 
cold  glitter,  types  of  the  all-enduring,  which  mocked 
that  poor  transient  clay  which  had  aspired  to  be  a  planet 
in  a  system  so  mundane  as  to  admit  of  railway  accidents; 
and  as  he  looked  with  despairing  eyes  he  cursed  them 
as  the  unjust  rulers  of  his  fate.  Then,  for  his  mind  was 
in  too  great  a  state  of  exaltation  to  dwell  long  on  any 
one  thought,  before  him  rose  and  passed  as  in  an  ex- 
traordinarily vivid  panorama  the  salient  incidents  of 
his  career,  to  be  succeeded  by  the  principal  stages  he 
had  been  wont  justifiably  to  picture  in  his  future. 
Never  to  be.  The  past  was  all  he  could  claim  now; 
the  present  was  mere  impotence,  and  the  future  had 
vanished  at  the  touch  of  a  sleepy  signalman's  hand  on 
the  wrong  lever.  He  ground  his  teeth  as  he  thought  of 
it;  he  had  a  good  deal  of  cynical  philosophy  in  him, 
but  it  failed  here,  the  stake  had  been  too  great,  the 
certainty  of  winning  too  absolute  for  him  to  regard  this 
startling  reverse  with  equanimity.  Then  he  came  to 
review  his  triumphs,  his  mistakes,  his  sins:  the  last  had 
been  mostly  pleasant,  none  the  less  so,  perhaps,  that 
his  ambition  had  required  their  concealment;  he  felt 
he  would  rather  have  lived  for  sin,  flagrant,  even,  and 


HISTORY  OF  A  COMPACT  13 

open,  than  died  like  this.  If  he  had  known  how  near 
the  end  was  he  would  not  have  been  so  careful;  the 
world's  opinion,  bah!  What  was  it  worth  now?  Some- 
thing came  to  his  mind  that  since  the  jar  of  the  acci- 
dent he  had  strangely  forgotten;  something  that  had 
sent  him  there,  sent  him,  as  it  turned  out,  to  his  death. 
Was  there  justice  in  that?  Curiously  his  legally  trained 
mind  began  to  busy  itself  in  weighing  the  equity  of  the 
penalty.  It  was  at  least  strangely  swift,  fitting  and 
thorough,  but  was  it  just?  Summum  jus,  summa  in- 
juria.  He  smiled  resentfully  at  the  aptness  of  the  adage, 
then  became  conscious  that  some  one  was  speaking  to 
him,  was  sympathetically  asking  as  to  his  hurt.  A 
young  man  knelt  by  his  side  and,  with  a  cushion,  tried 
to  make  his  position  more  comfortable,  talking  cheerily 
to  him  the  while.  He  was  one  of  the  uninjured  pas- 
sengers doing  his  best  for  his  less  fortunate  fellow  trav- 
ellers. For  the  moment  Gastineau  hated  his  succourer 
in  a  wave  of  malicious  envy;  why  had  not  this  nobody, 
this  worthy,  common-place  young  Englishman,  dull, 
probably,  and  mentally  circumscribed,  with  the  hall- 
mark of  Eton  plainly  showing,  why  had  not  this  man 
been  shattered,  and  he,  the  brilliant  worker,  with  a 
name  and  a  place  in  the  world,  have  gone  scatheless? 
So  bitter  was  the  selfish  thought  that  for  a  while  he 
could  hardly  bring  himself  to  acknowledge  the  young 
stranger's  kindness;  all  he  wanted  was  to  be  let  alone, 
to  die  quickly.  But  the  other  was  not  to  be  easily  re- 
buffed; perhaps  he  made  allowance  for  a  sufferer's  state 
of  mind  and  temper;  anyhow  he  soon  won,  by  tactful 
assiduity,  the  wounded  man's  gratitude,  to  such  a  de- 
gree, indeed,  that  when  they  came  to  bear  Gastineau  to 
the  monastery  he  begged  the  young  fellow  not  to  leave 


14  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

him.  There  self  came  in  again,  since  other  »sufferers 
might  need  the  young  Samaritan's  care;  but  the  case 
seemed  desperate,  and  he  could  not  bear  to  refuse  a 
manifestly  dying  man's  request. 

In  such  manner  began  the  friendship  between  Paul 
Gastineau  and  Geoffrey  Herriard. 

Now,  within  the  next  few  days,  chance,  that  had 
brought  Gastineau  to  this  pass,  continued  a  sequel  which 
had  a  singular  and  important  bearing  upon  the  future 
of  the  two  men  it  had  thrown  together.  Gastineau, 
having  been  carried  to  the  monastery  and  tended  by 
the  monks,  ever  ready  for  such  an  office  of  mercy,  lay 
for  days  in  a  semi-comatose  condition  on  the  border- 
land between  life  and  death.  He  was  but  one  of  some 
dozen  victims  under  the  care  of  these  good  brothers 
who,  simple  and  practically  dead  to  the  world  beyond 
their  narrow  sphere,  took  little  heed  of  their  patients' 
identities;  they  were  to  them  simply  suffering  men  whose 
pain  called  forth  their  loving  service.  Presently,  to 
their  joy  and  Herriard 's  satisfaction,  Gastineau,  who 
had  seemed  doomed,  began  to  mend.  He  regained  in 
a  surprising  degree  his  mental  faculties;  the  doctor 
shook  his  head  at  any  idea  of  complete  recovery;  he 
could  never  walk  again,  but,  with  care  till  the  crisis 
was  well  past,  he  would  live.  It  was  wonderful,  won- 
derful, he  declared;  not  one  man  in  a  thousand  would 
have  survived  such  an  injury,  but  the  vitality  of  the 
Senor  Inglese  was  the  most  marvellous  he  had  ever 
known;  it  was  a  revelation;  and,  after  all,  though  most 
of  us  die  when  we  need  not,  there  are  some  subjects 
whom  it  is  absurdly  difficult  to  kill.  But  then  look  at 
him.  Did  one  ever  see  such  unmistakable  power  in  any 
one  as  this  dark,  resolute  Englishman  manifested? 


HISTORY  OF  A  COMPACT  15 

Were  all  mankind  built  of  that  steel-like  fibre  physi- 
cians would  be  few.  But  to  give  him  the  best  chance 
it  would  be  well  to  remove  him  to  the  air  of  the  moun- 
tains, and  the  sooner  it  was  done  the  better. 

Accordingly,  early  one  morning,  the  patient,  accom- 
panied by  Herriard,  was  driven  off  on  a  journey  of 
some  half-dozen  leagues  to  the  restorative  atmosphere 
the  doctor  had  suggested. 

Now  it  happened  that,  an  hour  after  their  departure, 
death,  as  though  determined  not  to  be  twice  baulked, 
struck  his  dart  at  one  of  the  patients  who  remained 
at  the  monastery,  an  Englishman  also,  a  stockbroker 
of  travelling  proclivities  whose  proposed  itinerary  had 
scarcely  included  the  River  Styx.  During  the  morn- 
ing the  reporter  of  the  local  paper,  who  had,  from  the 
columns  of  a  Madrid  "  contemporary, "  discovered  that 
an  Englishman  of  note  was  among  the  wounded  (a  fact 
which  he  had  totally  failed  to  get  wind  of  at  first  hand), 
bustled  up  to  the  monastery  with  an  eye  to  "copy" 
and  the  unusual  importance  of  a  series  of  press  telegrams 
to  the  capitals  of  Europe.  Only  to  be  told  that  the 
Englishman  had  died  that  morning.  Too  disgusted  at 
a  lost  opportunity  to  enquire  more  closely  as  to  the 
identity  of  the  deceased,  he  jumped  to  the  conclusion 
that  it  was  of  course  the  eminent  advocate  and  distin- 
guished member  of  the  British  Parliament  who  was 
dead,  and  hurried  off  in  sorrow  to  his  office,  formulating 
his  dispatch  by  the  way.  So  it  came  to  be  flashed 
abroad  that  Paul  Gastineau  had,  as  expected,  suc- 
cumbed to  his  injuries. 

Herriard  reading  the  news  some  days  after  was  hot 
on  contradicting  it,  and  greatly  surprised  when  Gas- 
tineau forbade  him  to  do  so. 


16  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"Let  it  be,"  he  commanded.  "It  is  scarcely  a  mis- 
take. I  am  dead.  Yes;  considering  what  my  life  has 
been,  as  really  dead  as  many  a  man  who  is  in  his  grave. 
Let  it  be  so,  Herriard;  give  me  your  word  that  you  will 
not  set  the  mistake  right.  I  will  tell  you  why  presently." 

He  was  so  evidently  in  earnest,  that  Herriard  could 
not  refuse  to  pass  his  word,  unaccountable  as  the  request 
seemed.  Yet,  perhaps,  to  him  who,  being  a  humble 
member  of  the  same  profession,  knew  well  his  compan- 
ion's position  and  character  therein,  it  was  just  con- 
ceivable that  this  brilliant  and  ambitious  man  could 
not  bear  to  swallow  fate's  nauseous  dose  in  public.  If 
we  have  to  make  a  wry  face  we  need  not  stand  in  the 
market-place  to  do  it. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  the  report  of  Gastineau's 
death  was  never  contradicted;  he  was  supposed  to  have 
been  buried  in  an  obscure  Spanish  grave;  obituary  no- 
tices appeared  in  the  papers,  and  the  very  fact  that 
these  were  allowed  to  pass  unchallenged  practically 
confirmed  their  truth.  This  business  of  a  supposititious 
death  would,  however,  have  been  difficult  to  carry  out 
successfully  had  it  not  been  helped  by  the  circumstance 
that  Gastineau  stood,  so  far  as  family  ties  were  con- 
cerned, almost  alone  in  the  world.  There  was  no  near 
relative  to  go  out  to  Spain  and  make  enquiries,  even 
as  a  pious  duty.  Such  distant  cousins  as  he  had  were 
poor,  for  he  had  raised  himself;  he  had  never  encour- 
aged any  advances  they  had  attempted,  and  the}7  ac- 
cepted the  news  of  his  death  with  little  more  interest 
than  the  rest  of  the  wrorld.  So  when  presently  it  ap- 
peared that  he  had  left  to  his  friend  Geoffrey  Herriard 
a  life  interest  in  his  property  the  relations  had  scarcely 
an  excuse  for  a  grievance. 


HISTORY  OF  A  COMPACT  17 

But  when  once  the  deception  had  been  decided  on, 
the  busy,  acute  brain,  as  keen  as  ever,  set  to  work 
strenuously  to  perfect  all  the  details  of  the  business. 
And  something  more.  The  hidden  light  was  to  burn 
as  brightly  as  ever  behind  its  screen  of  lies;  the  dead 
hand  was  to  strike  as  viciously  as  of  old,  the  stilled  voice 
to  sting  through  other  lips.  Gastineau  studied  Herriard 
and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was  fitted  for  the 
purpose  he  had  in  mind.  He  could  have  done  with  a 
little  less  honesty,  but  the  scheme  in  its  very  character 
contained  an  element  which  would  neutralize  that. 
Paul  Gastineau  was  not  going  to  play  the  dead  man 
in  aught  save  in  name.  He  was  still  a  power.  The 
sword  with  which  he  had  fought  and  gained  so  many 
encounters  had  snapped  in  his  hand,  but  he  would  do 
some  savage  execution  yet  with  the  jagged  dagger  it 
had  become.  He  was  not  going  to  lie  still  and  impo- 
tently  watch  the  unchecked  triumphs  of  the  rivals  and 
enemies  he  hated  and  despised.  The  sole  sharer  of  his 
secret  was  clever,  ambitious,  sick  of  waiting  for  his 
chance,  and,  by  Heaven,  he  should  have  it. 

Accordingly  he  one  day  considerably  startled  Her- 
riard by  proposing  to  him  a  scheme,  extraordinary 
enough,  yet  of  obvious  feasibility.  It  was  simply  this: 
That  they  should  return  to  London  secretly,  and  that 
he,  Gastineau,  out  of  gratitude  for  the  services  rendered 
him,  should  repay  service  for  service  by  putting  the 
whole  of  his  great  talents  at  his  young  friend's  disposal 
to  the  furtherance  of  his  career.  Herriard,  in  a  word, 
was  to  be  the  mouthpiece  of  the  stricken  man's  brain. 
Gastineau  should  be  the  dramatist  and  stage-manager, 
Herriard  the  actor,  the  manifest  form  of  the  invisible 
spirit. 
2 


18  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"I  will  make  you,  Geoffrey,"  he  protested,  warming 
to  kindle  the  necessary  enthusiasm  in  his  intended 
pupil.  "Your  fortune  at  the  Bar,  that  will  be  child's 
play;  I  will  guarantee  for  you,  if  I  live,  something 
higher,  a  prize  more  glorious  than  mere  money.  Don't 
think  of  that;  leave  money-grubbing  to  tradesmen; 
more  than  enough  for  everything  a  man  can  want  will 
come  of  course,  for  you  cannot  march  successfully 
through  our  profession  without  the  accompaniment  of 
the  golden  cymbals!  But  if  I  take  you  in  hand  as  I 
propose,  there  is  no  saying  where  you  will  stop.  Be- 
cause I  am  at  the  end  of  my  tether,  which  has  pulled 
me  up  with  an  ugly  jerk,  because  I  can  do  no  more  for 
myself,  is  no  reason  why,  so  long  as  my  brains  are  left 
me,  I  should  not  do  something  for  another  man.  No, 
don't  begin  to  thank  me;  I  am  not  even  pretending  that 
there  is  any  virtue  in  my  offer.  If,"  he  laughed,  "I 
had  still  the  use  of  my  legs  I  would  n't  do  it,  that  's 
obvious.  I  should  be  too  keen  on  my  own  career  to 
trouble  much  about  helping  another  man  on.  I  should, 
if  I  had  completely  recovered,  have  probably  given  you 
a  piece  of  jewellery  in  acknowledgment  of  your  kind- 
ness, and  always  been  your  friend  and  glad  to  see  you. 
I  am  selfish;  all  successful  men  are,  although  some  con- 
trive to  disguise  it  from  a  stupid  public  by  advertising 
the  contrary;  it  has  made  me;  I  don't  say  I  could  not 
have  got  on  without  practising  selfishness,  but  it  would 
have  taken  me  much  longer,  and  time,  you  know,  is  of 
the  essence  of  our  contract  with  Fate  in  these  days  of 
hustle,  rush  and  scramble.  And  it  is  just  that  very 
instinct  of  self  that  now  draws  me  to  you;  for  selfish- 
ness by  no  means  implies  ingratitude.  Within  limits, 
they  who  make  self  their  god  are  keenly  grateful  to 


19 

those  who  serve  in  his  temple.  It  is  just  as  well  to  be 
honest  in  a  matter  of  this  kind,  and  for  neither  of  us 
to  etfter  upon  a  contract  such  as  I  am  proposing  with 
false  impressions.  For  it  must  be  a  contract,  my  dear 
Geoffrey;  binding  by  the  very  seal  of  our  individual 
interests,  and  to  be  honourably  kept  in  its  spirit  as 
well  as  on  its  material  side.  It  will  be  necessary  for 
us  to  believe  in  one  another,  to  trust  one  another. 
Those  are  general  stipulations:  the  only  specific  con- 
ditions I  shall  make  are,  absolute,  inviolable  secrecy, 
which  you  would  hardly  break,  and,  what  you  may 
find  less  easy  to  comply  with,  implicit  obedience  to  my 
instructions.  I  am  not  surprised  to  see  you  look  serious 
at  that,  but  don't  misunderstand  me.  I  am  not  going 
to  put  a  knife  in  your  hand  and  send  you  forth  to  mur- 
der one  of  my  pet  aversions.  I  have  no  intention  of 
asking  you  to  do  anything,  to  use  any  weapon  which 
an  ordinary  man  of  the  world  need  in  honour,  our  code 
of  to-day,  shrink  from.  But  if  I  want  a  man  hit  hard 
you  must  hit  him  hard;  you  will  be  my  soldier,  and 
when  I  send  you  out  to  fight  I  don't  expect  you  to 
patch  up  a  truce  and  arbitrate.  I  have  always  been  a 
fighting  man,  and  as  my  representative,  my  proxy,  you 
would  have  to  carry  my  banner,  which  bears  the  motto, 
'No  compromise.'  The  rewards  would  be  great.  If, 
as  I  hardly  suppose,  my  affairs  should  turn  out  so  that 
it  became  necessary  for  me  to  levy  toll  of  your  earnings, 
I  would  take  care  you  were  no  loser  by  that.  I  will 
get  you  into  the  House,  and  what  is  more,  I  will  make 
you  master  of  the  art  of  making  your  mark  there  when 
you  are  in.  That  is  the  real  crux.  That  is  where  nine 
out  of  ten,  even  clever,  men  fail.  There  need  be  no 
limit  to  your  ambition.  Every  day's  programme  shall 


20  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

be  sketched  for  you,  every  wrong  turning  marked  with 
a  red  cross,  every  pitfall  fenced,  the  right  road  clearly 
marked.  You  shall  see  your  fellow  travellers  drop  off, 
but  you  shall,  if  you  follow  my  clue,  go  on  triumphantly, 
each  milestone  marking  a  new  success.  The  world  is 
before  you  to  conquer.  The  world  consists  mainly  of 
fools,  but  even  fools  get  in  your  way,  it  is  all  they  can 
do,  and  there  are  clever  spirits  to  oppose  your  progress. 
The  conquest  is  easy  enough,  but  unhappily  men  usu- 
ally find  that  out  too  late,  when  they  are  too  old  for  the 
fray.  I  doubt  whether  you  could  do  it  alone,  Geoffrey, 
at  least  while  the  victory  is  worth  having,  but  with  me 
behind  you,  you  may  be  irresistible.  Is  it  a  compact?  " 
The  compact  was  made  readily  enough,  the  chances 
of  the  strange  proposal  being  too  dazzling  to  be  re- 
jected. If  the  purely  ethical  side  of  the  arrangement 
lodged  a  feeble  protest  in  Herriard's  mind,  the  material 
advantage  with  which  it  was  weighted  drove  the  mon- 
itor out  of  hearing.  Success  deferred  is  to  the  impa- 
tience of  youth  more  galling,  perhaps,  than  the  settled 
disappointment  of  failure  to  a  maturer  mind.  From 
Herriard  success,  the  immediate  success  which  a  fairly 
clever  and  ambitious  man  expects  to  be  his,  had  been 
withheld  to  a  degree  that  had  begun  to  gall  him.  Other 
men  of  his  standing,  no  cleverer  but  more  pushing,  or 
more  lucky,  than  he,  were  forging  ahead.  We  are  never 
so  conscious  of  our  slow  progress  as  when  we  see  our- 
selves left  behind  by  others  who  started  with  us.  Here, 
ready  to  Herriard's  hand,  was  a  means  of  catching  up 
and  passing  his  rivals,  indeed  of  astonishing  his  world. 
It  seemed  rather  like  making  a  compact  with  the  devil, 
he  would  tell  himself  with  a  laugh;  yet  where,  he  argued, 
was  the  wrong?  He  was  going  to  rob  no  one;  it  was 


HISTORY  OF  A  COMPACT  21 

merely  a  partnership  that  he  was  entering  into,  and  the 
success  of  a  partnership  is  gauged  by  its  strongest  rather 
than  its  weakest  member.  Why  should  a  bed-ridden 
man  of  genius  be  debarred  from  the  active  exercise  of 
his  mental  powers?  Where  was  the  dishonour  in  being 
his  spokesman,  any  more  than  his  amanuensis? 

So  the  argument  went  all  one  way;  the  strange  part- 
nership began,  and  was  not  long  in  justifying  its  exist- 
ence. Men  who  frequented  the  fruitful  and  thorny 
paths  of  the  law  began  to  speak  of  Geoffrey  Herriard 
as  one  of  the  cleverest  of  rising  counsel;  some,  specu- 
lating in  " futures"  out  of  the  capital  of  their  reputa- 
tion for  foresight,  pointed  at  him  as  the  coming  man. 
He  went  far  to  justify  them  by  the  lucky  capture  of  a 
seat  at  a  bye-election,  the  victory  being  in  some  measure 
due  to  a  series  of  particularly  smart  and  telling  speeches, 
which  tore  into  shreds  the  platform  of  his  opponent,  a 
flabby  soap-maker  with  a  long  purse  and  a  short  vocab- 
ulary. Herriard's  maiden  speech  was  a  success.  "Best 
I  Ve  heard  since  poor  Paul  Gastineau, "  Sir  Henry  Hart- 
field  commented. 

"Rather  reminds  me  of  him,"  his  companion  re- 
marked. "Something  of  the  same  fiery  periods  and 
tendency  to  antithesis.  It  just  shows  how  easily  a 
man's  place  can  be  filled,  even  the  cleverest. " 

The  resemblance  in  style  was  indeed  remarkable  both 
at  the  Bar,  on  the  platform,  and  in  the  House,  for  in 
the  early  day  of  his  pupildom  Herriard  had  to  keep 
tight  and  assiduous  hold  on  his  master's  hand.  The 
work  was  hard,  but  the  tutor  was  clever  in  imparting 
his  knack,  and,  with  a  reputation  increasing  to  a  flat- 
tering degree,  the  incentive  to  industry  on  the  pupil's 
part  was  great. 


22  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

Every  night  Bernard  paid  a  visit  to  the  secluded 
house  in  Mayfair,  sometimes  to  stay  far  into  the  early 
hours  of  the  morning,  rehearsing  a  speech,  analyzing 
the  probable  trends  of  a  cross-examination,  making 
notes  from  Gastineau's  quick  observation  of  weak  points 
or  strong  ones,  spotting  flaws,  devising  traps,  in  fact 
looking  to  every  rivet  in  his  own  armour,  speculating 
on  every  possible  loose  joint  in  his  adversaries'  for  the 
morrow's  tilt. 

So  the  singular  conjunction  of  rare  master  and  apt 
pupil  had  continued  in  almost  unbroken  success  for 
more  than  three  years.  Herriard  had  gained  such  a 
degree  of  confidence  in  playing  his  part  as  now  almost 
to  wear  his  instructor's  talent  at  second-hand.  He 
promised  to  become  a  rich  man,  and  Gastineau,  with 
ample  means  of  his  own  for  his  circumscribed  luxury, 
was  pleased  that  it  should  be  so.  In  return  for  wealth 
and  reputation  he  expected  Herriard  to  mark  down, 
to  follow  up  and  worry  certain  old-time  rivals  of  his 
own.  His  pupil  sometimes  marvelled  at  the  malignant 
viciousness  of  his  "riding  orders."  It  was  as  though 
Gastineau  had  given  him  a  rhetorical  bottle  of  vitriol 
to  fling  over  the  smug  face  of  some  self-satisfied  prig 
of  an  Under  Secretary.  Still  he  felt  in  honour  bound 
to  fling  the  corrosive  denunciations  with  the  most  sting- 
ing effect,  very  much  to  the  distortion  of  the  Superior 
Being's  cultivated  blandness.  Then  Gastineau  was  wont 
to  declare  himself  well  satisfied;  and  perfect  friendship, 
founded  on  mutual  service,  existed  between  the  two  men. 

But  strange  events,  little  dreamt  of  by  either,  were 
on  their  way  to  meet  them;  events  which  were  to  turn 
into  disastrous  twistings  the  paths  that  had  run  so 
easily  side  by  side. 


CHAPTER  III 

A   SOCIETY   SENSATION 

HAVE  you  heard  the  latest  sensation,  Lady  Roth- 
erfield?  " 

"Oh,  no,  Mr.  Greetland.  Do  tell  me.  It's  not  the 
scandal  about  Lord  Barnoldby  and  Infanta  Tumour? 
Of  course  every  one  knows  all  about  that." 

"Hardly  all,  dear  lady,"  Greetland  simpered.  He 
was  one  of  the  cohort  of  smart  diners-out;  the  social 
bagmen  who  all  travel  in  the  same  commodity,  for  which 
there  is  universal  demand — scandal.  "The  Barnoldby- 
Turnour  affair  is  never-ending.  Nobody  ever  will  hear 
the  last  of  that. " 

"  The  Infanta  is  old  enough  to  know  better,"  observed 
Mrs.  Hargrave  on  the  other  side  of  him,  scandalized  but 
interested. 

"She  is  big  enough  at  any  rate,"  Greetland  smirked. 

"To  be  ashamed  of  herself,"  supplemented  Lady 
Rotherfield  illogically. 

"Perhaps  she  has  out-grown  the  sense  of  shame," 
suggested  Greetland,  whose  stature  matched  his  ambi- 
tion. "  But  that  was  n't  what  I  was  referring  to.  Some- 
thing much  more  thrilling. " 

-Mr.  Greetland!  " 

The  society  purveyor  glanced  round  to  see  whether 
he  had  an  audience  worthy  of  the  news.  People  on 
each  side  seemed  to  be  pricking  up  their  ears.  There 
was  evidently  something  of  interest  going  forward;  the 

23 


24  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

spasmodic  tea-table  talk  languished;  Dormer  Greetland 
was  always  interesting;  even  men  who  itched  to  kick 
him  admitted  that.  "A  curiously  marked  caterpillar" 
had  once  been  Gastineau's  correction  when  some  one 
spoke  of  Greetland  as  a  worm.  He  was  too  sleek  and 
foppish  to  be  a  human  exemplar  of  the  more  coarse  and 
naked  invertebrate. 

A  pretty  piece  of  scandal  was  evidently  forthcoming, 
and  he  got  an  audience  to  his  liking — almost  every  one 
of  importance  in  the  room,  with  one  notable  exception, 
the  hostess,  Countess  Alexia  von  Rohnburg,  who  was 
listening  to  a  prosy  Russian  diplomat. 

"What  is  it?  You  have  some  news  for  us,  Greet- 
land? "  cried  the  high-pitched  voice  of  Baron  de  Daun, 
as  he  came  across  the  floor  and  stood  over  the  group. 
In  his  way  the  Baron  was  as  great  a  scandal-monger 
and  blagueur  as  the  other  man,  but  he  tore  reputations 
to  shreds  with  greater  violence  than  his  English  confrere, 
who  was,  after  all,  more  of  an  artist.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  Baron  had  greater  justification  in  peeping 
through  the  chinks  in  society's  shutters,  for  was  he  not 
a  diplomatist?  " 

"A  very  extraordinary  thing  has  come  to  light," 
Greetland  said,  with  an  air  befitting  the  communica- 
tion. "It  is  really  quite  dramatic,  and  Heaven  only 
knows  what  will  be  the  end  of  it." 

"What?  What?  "  Baron  de  Daun's  temper  was 
impatient  of  preliminaries,  a  circumstance  which,  how- 
ever, was  not  so  great  a  drawback  as  it  would  seem 
in  his  profession,  where  due  weight  is  given  to  consider- 
ations other  than  individual  fitness. 

"You  remember,"  Greetland  proceeded,  still  deliber- 
ately— on  his  own  ground  it  took  more  than  the  repre- 


A  SOCIETY  SENSATION  25 

sentative  of  a  second-rate  power  to  flurry  him — "you 
remember  the  affair  of  poor  Beauty  Martindale?  " 

"Oh,  yes;  the  poor  fellow  who  died  so  tragically  at 
the  ball  at — where  was  it?  Yes?  " 

To  Lady  Rotherfield  details  were  unimportant;  but 
to  Greetland  they  had  their  value.  "Vaux  House," 
he  supplied. 

"Yes?  yes?  " 

"Let  's  see.  He  was  supposed  to  have  died  of  heart 
disease,  but  it  was  doubted — 

"There  was  no  doubt  about  it,"  de  Daun  asserted 
quickly.  The  subject  was  too  interesting  for  more  dip- 
lomatic contradiction. 

"Of  course,"  corroborated  Sir  Perrott  Aspall,  who 
had  been  in  Australia  at  the  time  and  was  consequently 
well  qualified  to  give  an  authoritative  dictum.  "He 
was  murdered,  done  to  death  by  one  of  his  partners, 
eh?  That  's  the  idea. " 

"I  recollect,"  put  in  Mrs.  Hargrave  breathlessly. 
"Half  the  smart  women  in  town  were  suspected." 

"Many  of  whom  were  not  at  the  dance,"  de  Daun 
laughed. 

"It 's  years  ago,"  Lady  Rotherfield  said,  as  an  excuse 
for  general  vagueness. 

"Well,  what  of  it?  What  has  come  to  light?  "  the 
Baron  demanded.  "Get  on,  my  dear  fellow,  if  you 
have  anything  to  tell  us." 

Greetland,  master  of  the  situation,  was  content  to 
wait  till  the  chatter  stopped.  "The  facts  were  these. 
Reggie  Martindale,  the  handsomest  man  in  town,  was 
found  dead  at  the  Lancashires'  dance.  You  are  quite 
right,  dear  lady,  it  was  at  first  supposed  and  given  out 
that  it  was  heart  disease.  Then,  almost  by  accident, 


26  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

and  after  the  certificate  had  been  given,  a  tiny  wound, 
scarcely  bigger  than  a  pin-prick,  was  found  in  his  left 
side  near  the  heart.  That  was  hushed  up;  luckily  the 
Lancashires'  medico,  who  found  it  out,  happened  to  be 
Martindale's  as  well,  and  so  had  the  matter  in  his  own 
hands;  and  naturally  the  Duchess  did  not  want  a  scan- 
dal. It  was  said  that  Dr.  Blaydon  handed  the  Duke 
three-eights  of  an  inch  of  broken  steel  which  he  had 
found  imbedded  in  poor  Beauty's  heart,  and  received 
in  return  a  cheque  which  established  a  record  price 
for  the  metal.  But  old  Bla}^don  knew  himself  to  be 
a  dying  man  at  the  time;  an  expose  could  hardly  hurt 
him,  and  he  had  a  large  family  to  provide  for.  As 
a  matter  of  fact  he  died  a  few  months  afterwards,  to 
the  dear  Duchess's  great  content.  It 's  extraordinary 
how  fussy  some  good  people  can  be  over  the  idea  of  a 
scandal. " 

"You  see,"  observed  Mrs.  Hargrave,  "the  Duchess 
does  not  require  advertisement  for  herself  or  her  dances." 

"If  it  had  been  that  terrible  Oglander  woman,  now, 
she  would  have  paid  the  doctor  to  call  in  the  Coroner, 
and  sent  out  invitations  for  the  inquest,  with  reserved 
seats  and  champagne  for  the  Press."  Lady  Rother- 
field  never  missed  an  opportunity,  even  when  she  was 
in  a  hurry,  of  girding  at  her  especial  abomination  among 
the  many  parvenues  who  beset  her  path. 

"Well?  well?  "  Baron  de  Daun's  sharp  voice  split 
the  air  like  the  crack  of  a  whip.  "And  now,  after  all, 
the  affair  has  come  put,  eh?  " 

"Something  more  than  that,"  Greetland  returned, 
with  all  the  superiority  of  the  man  who  knows.  "A 
good  many  people  knew  that  much  already.  You  see, 
after  Blaydon's  death,  when  she  felt  they  were  safe, 


A  SOCIETY  SENSATION  27 

the  dear  Duchess  allowed  herself  to  be  a  little  indiscreet, 
of  course  only  in  her  own  set. "  His  tone  included  him- 
self by  implication  in  the  select  band  who  shared  the 
ducal  secret.  De  Daun  saw  it  was  no  use  trying  to 
hurry  him,  and  worked  off  his  impatience  by  pulling 
viciously  at  his  moustache. 

"What  I  am  going  to  tell  you,"  Greetland  proceeded, 
"happened  only  a  day  or  two  ago.  They  were  doing 
something  to  the  little  room  where  Beauty  was  found 
dead,  just  off  the  ball-room,  putting  up  new  cornices 
or  something — not  before  they  were  wanted,  they  say 
the  curtains  at  Vaux  House  were  hung  in  Queen  Anne's 
time;  probably  the  poles  date  from  the  Conquest — well, 
in  pulling  the  old  window  trappings  about,  the  men 
found  a  long  jewelled  hair-pin,  a  tiny  sword,  the  hilt 
set  in  diamonds  and  with  the  point  broken  off. " 

"By  Jove!  "  exclaimed  Sir  Perrott. 

"They  found  this  in  the  cornice?  "  de  Daun  asked 
intently.  It  was  important  for  him  to  get  the  story 
correctly. 

"Somewhere  stuck  away  in  the  curtains  or  behind 
the  shutter;  anyhow,  hidden  by  the  window." 

"And  who  found  it?     A  workman,  eh?  " 

"One  of  the  Duke's  men. " 

"And  what  is  to  be  the  upshot?  "  Mrs.  Hargrave's 
turn  of  mind  was  practical  and  anticipatory. 

"Well,  the  whole  thing  will  come  out,"  Greetland 
asserted. 

"No?  Be  made  public?  "  Lady  Rotherfield  was 
dead  against  the  publicity  of  to-day.  A  scandal  to 
which  the  mob  had  access  lost  all  its  piquancy  and  was 
not  worth  discussing.  The  world  was  becoming  less 
interesting  every  hour. 


28  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"To-morrow,"  Greetland  confidently  affirmed,  "the 
man  in  the  street  will  know  as  much  of  the  affair  as  we 
do." 

Lady  Rotherfield  gave  a  shrug  of  despair.  The  world 
where  the  man  in  the  street  is  as  well  posted  as  the 
Duchess  in  the  Square  was  scarcely  worth  living  in. 

"Then  the  Duke  can't  hush  it  up  this  time,  eh?  " 
de  Daun  demanded,  showing  his  malicious  teeth. 

"No,  "Greetland  purred  on.  "He  is  in  an  awful 
way  about  it,  and  the  Duchess  is  having  a  bad  time." 

"Poor  woman!  "  cried  Mrs.  Hargrave  with  cynical 
sympathy. 

"Well,  it  is  all  her  fault,  so  Lady  Helen  says,"  the 
Society  Newsman  went  on,  as  suavely  as  though  he 
were  referring  to  no  greater  tragedy  than  a  failure  on 
the  Matrimonial  Exchange.  "The  dear  Duchess  would 
dismiss  one  of  her  carriage  footmen  because  he  was 
three-quarters  of  an  inch  shorter  than  his  fellow.  Lady 
Helen's  maid  tells  her  that  the  man  wore  cork  wedges 
in  his  boots  till  he  could  hardly  keep  his  balance,  and 
was  quite  willing  to  meet  her  views  and  obliging,  but 
the  other  day  he  had  to  go  out  unexpectedly,  and  in 
his  hurry  forgot  the  corks;  the  Duchess's  eagle  eye 
caught  the  disparity,  her  artistic  sense  was  outraged, 
and  the  poor  Duke  had  to  give  the  man  notice.  She 
said  that  so  long  as  Nature  continued  occasionally  to 
turn  out  human  beings  six  feet  two  inches  in  height  she 
would  not  put  up  with  a  trumped-up,  inferior  article, 
only  six  feet  one,  of  which  a  quarter  only  was  genuine 
flesh  and  blood  and  the  rest  cork,  and  who  looked  as 
though  liable  to  fall  on  his  nose.  Men  of  her  standard 
height  were  to  be  had,  and  she  meant  to  have  them, 
all  through  alike;  the  cork-tipped  variety  she  would 


A  SOCIETY  SENSATION  29 

leave  to  Bishop's  wives,  dowager  Countesses,  and  other 
latitudinarians. " 

"  So  like  the  dear  Duchess, "  Lady  Rotherfield  laughed. 
"Poor  Duke,  what  could  he  say?  " 

"There  was  only  one  thing  he  could  say  to  the  man. 
Well,  the  fellow  resented  his  dismissal,  which  was  rather 
absurd  of  him. " 

"He  ought  to  have  been  thankful  to  get  rid  of  the 
corks,"  was  Sir  Perrott's  opinion. 

"Instead  of  which  he  appears  to  have  declared  that 
the  proper  thing  for  the  Duchess  to  have  done  was  to 
have  sacked  his  tall  colleague  and  replaced  him  by  a 
man  to  match  himself,  minus  the  corks.  This  was  flat 
treason  in  the  face  of  the  fact  that  the  standard  height 
of  the  Lancashires'  carriage  footmen  was  settled  for  all 
time  in  the  second  year  of  the  reign  of  William  and 
Mary.  When  the  lese-majeste  was  repeated  to  the 
Duchess  she  became  livid.  The  sacredness  of  the 
Lancashire  traditions  to  be  scoffed  at  by  a  cork- 
mounted  flunkey!  Should  the  ducal  glory  be  belittled 
by  a  creature  whose  only  claim  for  notice  rested  upon 
a  pair  of  false  heels?  The  consequence  was  that  the 
wretched  man  was  told  to  go  on  the  spot,  and  that 
happened  just  after  the  discovery  of  the  compromising 
hair-pin. " 

"Oh,  I  see,"  said  Sir  Perrott. 

"The  man  thought  he  would  get  what  he  could  out 
of  the  ducal  menage,  and  went  straight  off  with  his  secret 
to  Hepplethwaite.  Hepplethwaite  gave  him  twenty 
pounds  for  it,  and  resold  it  within  the  hour  to  the  Duke 
for  a  hundred  and  an  invitation  for  his  wife  to  the  next 
reception  at  Vaux  House." 

"I  must  remember  not  to  go,"  Lady  Rotherfield  mur- 


30  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

mured.  "That  odious  pushing  woman  tries  to  work 
her  way  everywhere. " 

"It  would  have  been  a  grand  coup  for  the  Hepple- 
thwaite  group  of  papers,"  Greetland  said;  "and  would 
have  set  up  their  circulation  phenomenally,  but  Hep- 
plethwaite  wants  something  more  than  money  now. 
The  Brailsfords  of  the  Daily  Comet  somehow  succeeded 
in  dining  at  Montford  House  last  week.  Montford  wants 
advertisement  for  that  ass  of  a  son  of  his,  Darsingham, 
who  is  by  way  of  taking  up  the  New  Hibernian  question 
in  the  House  to  keep  him  out  of  mischief;  and  so  the 
Hepplethwaites  were  bound  to  go  one  better. " 

"They  say,"  observed  Mrs.  Hargrave,  "that  Hepple- 
thwaite  and  Brailsford  were  office  boys  together  in  a 
tea  warehouse." 

"And,"  put  in  Sir  Perrott,  "they  are  now  running  it 
neck  and  neck  for  a  Peerage. " 

"Shocking!  "     Lady  Rotherfield  groaned. 

"Then  the  Vaux  House  affair  is  not  to  be  public  prop- 
erty at  all?  "  de  Daun  asked.  So  long  as  he  could  add 
it  to  his  dossier  the  stock  of  public  knowledge  might 
just  as  well  be  the  poorer  by  that  pungent  scandal. 

"Won't  it  come  out,  though?  "  Greetland  returned. 
"  I  have  n't  finished  my  story.  The  footman  on  find- 
ing that  the  news  did  not  appear  in  the  Hepplethwaite 
rags  took  it  to  Brailsford,  got  fifteen  pounds  for  it  this 
time;  and  it  is  going  to  burst  upon  a  jaded  reading  pub- 
lic to-morrow  morning.  They  were  to  have  had  it  to- 
day, only  special-sized  type  had  to  be  cast,  and  they 
were  not  ready." 

"What  is  this  thrilling  announcement  which  is  being 
prepared  for  us,  Mr.  Greetland?  " 

The  tatler  looked  up  with  almost  a  start.     The  ques- 


A  SOCIETY  SENSATION  31 

tion  had  been  put  by  Countess  Alexia  von  Rohnburg, 
their  young  hostess,  who  had  joined  the  group,  unno- 
ticed by  Greetland  or  his  listeners,  intent  as  they  wero 
upon  the  new  sensation.  The  Russian  proser  had  come 
to  a  pause  in  that  flow  of  shallow  talk  with  which  diplo- 
matists are  wont  to  disguise  their  thoughts  and  to  cover 
the  watchful  observation  of  their  fellows,  and  the  Count- 
ess, who  had  caught  above  the  suave  murmur  a  word 
or  two  in  de  Daun's  high-pitched  voice  that  had  arrested 
her,  had  risen  and  crossed  the  room.  There  was  nothing 
in  her  handsome,  animated  face,  the  index  of  a  suscep- 
tive mind,  that  showed  more  than  an  almost  languid 
curiosity,  as  of  one  who  lived  in  an  atmosphere  filled 
with  tales  concerning  the  great  names  of  the  day,  and 
whose  appetite  was  slightly  blunted  by  the  familiar  fare. 
Nevertheless  Greetland,  the  most  studiously  composed 
man  of  his  world,  looked  up  with  an  expression  of  greater 
embarrassment  than  he  often  permitted  himself.  And 
it  was  de  Daun,  not  he,  who  answered  the  question. 

"Mr.  Greetland  was  telling  us  of  the  discovery  of  a 
hair  ornament,  a  small  jewelled  dagger  with  the  point 
broken  off,  in  the  room  at  Vaux  House  where  Captain 
Martindale  met  his  death  two  years  ago. " 

"Ah!  How  thrilling!  "  If  the  speaker  were  really 
thrilled  the  mobile  face  must  surely  have  indicated  it 
more  vividly.  A  wave  of  interest  passed  across  it;  the 
dark  curves  of  the  eyebrows  rose  and  fell,  that  was  all. 
Dormer  Greetland,  watching  the  face  intently  for  a  man 
in  whose  social  balance-sheet  manners  stood  as  a  notable 
asset,  saw  no  more. 

"Is  it  quite  true,  Mr.  Greetland?  "  The  tone  implied 
an  amount  of  incredulity  which  compelled  a  spirited 
justification. 


32  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"Absolutely,  Countess.  I  was  just  saying  that  the 
discovery  will  be  in  the  papers  to-morrow." 

His  questioner  smiled.     "Does  that  make  it  true?  " 

"It  will  at  least  bring  the  story  to  its  proof.  The 
Duchess  won't  let  it  pass  if  it  is  a  canard:  she  does  n't 
need  advertisement.  But  I  happen  to  know  it  is  quite 
true. " 

"I  am  sure  Mr.  Greetland  would  rather  be  dull  than 
unauthentic,  as  the  lesser  of  the  two  crimes."  The 
sarcasm  was  none  the  less  stinging  from  being  shot 
through  the  sweetest  of  smiles. 

"The  Duke  has  been  trying  to  hush  it  up,"  Lady 
Rotherfield  put  in. 

Countess  Alexia  laughed.  "All  the  details  complete. 
And  of  course  the  owner  of  the  sword  has  been  found. " 

"  I  think  not, "  said  Greetland. 

"Probably  the  Duke  knows,  as  he  was  so  anxious  to 
hush  up  the  affair, "  the  Countess  continued,  in  her  fasci- 
nating banter.  "Poor  Duke,  he  had  better  be  careful, 
or  he  will  be  arrested  as  what  you  call  an  accessory  after 
the  fact,  which  would  be  a  sensation,  if  you  like.  Always 
supposing,  that  is,  that  poor  Reggie  Martindale  did  not 
die  of  heart  disease." 

"That  has  been  clearly  proved,  Countess,"  Greetland 
said,  glad  of  one  firm  foothold  in  stemming  the  increas- 
ing flow  of  increduilty. 

Alexia  gave  a  shrug.  "I  never  heard  it,  and  I'm 
afraid  I  hear  most  things." 

"The  Duke  hushed  that  up,"  explained  Sir  Perrott. 

"How  clever  of  him!  With  that  talent  for  hushing 
tiresome  tongues  what  a  perfect  nursemaid  he  might 
have  been  if  he  had  n't  been  born  a  Duke  and  a  man. 
How  lucky  he  has  failed  this  time,  or  we  should  not  be 


A  SOCIETY  SENSATION  33 

having  the  sensation  of  the  jewelled  dagger,  the  false 
lover  and  the  fair  assassin.  What  hard  lines!  What 
a  warning  to  inconstant  young  men  and  fussy  Dukes. 
And  we  are  to  see  it  all  in  print  to-morrow?  " 

"Get  the  Daily  Comet  for  choice,  Countess,"  de  Daun 
grinned. 

"I  will,  indeed.     I  am  so  sorry  for  the  poor  Duke." 

"And  the  lady,  the  owner  of  the  tell-tale  weapon?  " 
Greetland  suggested. 

"Ah,  yes.  But  it  is  so  long  ago.  Our  sympathy  by 
this  time  is  probably  superfluous.  Our  tragedies  to-day 
are  almost  as  short-lived  as  our  comedies. " 

"And  almost  as  amusing." 

"Much  more,  to  the  spectators.  Having  left  the  art 
of  pure  comedy  behind  us  with  the  days  of  patches  and 
powder  and  red  heels,  we  have  taken  a  lesson  from  our 
stage  managers  and  learnt  to  turn  a  tiresome  tragedy 
into  a  roaring  farce.  It  is  easy  enough.  Play  with  a  light 
touch,  and  exaggerate  the  sentiment,  that's  the  way  to 
get  your  laughs  and  your  audience  ;  the  world  must  be 
amused  at  any  cost.  Oh,  Prosper"  ;  she  broke  off,  and 
called  to  her  brother,  Count  Prosper  von  Rohnburg,  who 
had  just  come  in  with  a  scientific-looking  man,  "have 
you  heard  anything  of  the  wonderful  tale  Mr.  Greetland 
has  been  telling  us,  how  they  have  found  at  Vaux  House 
the  weapon  with  which  that  poor  Captain  Martindale  is 
supposed  to  have  been  killed?  Isn't  it  thrilling?  " 

"No,"  he  answered,  speaking  with  a  foreign  accent 
far  more  pronounced  than  his  sister's.  "I  am  behind 
the  world  to-day.  There  was  no  time  to  go  to  the 
Clubs,  we  have  been  absurdly  busy  at  the  Embassy. 
Here,  Alix,  let  me  present  to  you  Doctor  Hallamar  who 
has  come  to  spend  a  little  time  in  England. " 
3 


34  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

Doctor  Hallamar  bent  his  leonine  head  with  its  mass  of 
obstreperous  hair  low  till  his  lips  touched  the  Countess's 
hand.  Manifestly  he  was  a  man  of  power,  the  keen, 
resolute  face  was  of  the  kind  that  makes  one  glad  to 
think  its  indicative  strength  has  taken  up  arms  against 
our  common  enemy,  disease. 

"You  are  taking  a  holiday  in  England,  Doctor," 
Alexia  enquired. 

"Hardly."  The  deep  tones  sounded  in  unison  with 
the  rest  of  the  man's  heroic  fibre.  ''My  visit  is  pro- 
fessional primarily,  but  I  hope  to  see  something  of  Eng- 
land during  my  enforced  stay;  if  not  of  its  scenery,  at 
least  of  its  scientific  side. " 

" Doctor  Hallamar  means  the  hospitals,"  the  Count 
laughed.  "He  would  rather  see  an  interesting  opera- 
tion than  the  finest  view  in  the  world.  You  know  the 
Doctor  is  the  only  man  in  Europe  who  can  cure  a  cer- 
tain form  of  disease. " 

Hallamar  smiled  deprecatingly.  "Let  us  say,  treat 
it,  Count.  I  fear  I  cannot  often  undertake  to  cure  it. " 

"Oh,  you  are  modest,  Doctor,"  Alexia  laughed. 
"And  you  have  come  over  to  attend  a  special  case?  " 

Hallamar  bowed  assent.  "A  lady  who  has  lost  the 
use  of  her  limbs  through  an  accident.  As  a  diploma- 
tist's sister,  Countess,  you  will  not  expect  me  to  say 
more. "  He  beamed  inscrutably  through  his  spectacles. 
"My  mission  may  be  a  failure,  and  then  the  less  we 
shall  have  said  about  it  the  better. " 

"I  can't  imagine  you  a  failure,  Doctor,"  Alexia  said, 
and  truly,  as  her  eyes  rested  with  admiration  on  the 
strong,  resourceful  face. 

Hallamar's  smile  had  a  touch  of  regret  now. 

"  I  would,  Countess,  that  your  gracious  words  did  not 


A  SOCIETY  SENSATION  35 

carry  with  them  to  me  the  sting  of  unintended 
satire. " 

"  What  is  all  this  about  the  discovery  at  Vaux  House?  " 
Count  Prosper  asked. 

"Oh,  we  are  to  have  the  whole  account  to-morrow 
in  the  papers,"  his  sister  replied.  "We  can  scarcely 
trouble  Mr.  Greetland  to  go  over  the  story  again. " 

The  Mayfair  newsman  seemed  not  disinclined  to  re- 
peat the  recitation  to  a,  perhaps,  more  appreciative 
listener;  but  the  Count,  accustomed  to  take  his  sister's 
slightest  hint,  abandoned  any  further  show  of  curiosity. 
But  he  said  presently,  "We  were  at  that  ball  at  Vaux 
House,  were  n't  we,  Alix?  Yes;  I  recollect  poor  Mar- 
tindale.  Good-looking  fellow  he  was." 

"You  remember  the  sensation  his  death  caused," 
Sir  Perrott  said.  "Half  the  smart  women  in  town, 
married  and  single,  were  supposed  to  be  hit  by  it. " 

Doctor  Hallamar's  smile  had  faded.  He  was  not  in- 
terested and  he  showed  it. 

Baron  de  Daun  and  Dormer  Greetland  rose  to  go  at 
the  same  time.  Greetland 's  adieux  were  the  more 
lengthy;  he  had  so  many  social  loose  ends  to  tie  up. 
It  seemed  when  he  reached  the  hall  that  de  Daun  must 
have  been  waiting  for  him.  They  went  out  together. 

"Serious  thing  this  about  Vaux  House,"  the  Baron 
remarked,  in  quite  a  concerned  voice.  "I  say,  Greet- 
land, between  ourselves,  was  the  Countess,"  he  gave 
a  jerk  of  the  head  in  the  direction  of  the  house  they  had 
just  left,  "one  of  the  women  talked  of  with  Martin- 
dale?  " 

"I  fancy  she  was,"  the  other  answered,  looking 
straight  in  front  of  him. 


36  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

Tatler  as  he  was,  he  knew  de  Daun,  and  did  not  care 
to  be  pumped  to  serve  the  thirst  of  that  blatant  young 
diplomat. 

"It  seemed  rather  curious,  to  say  the  least  of  it," 
his  companion  persisted,  "her  affecting  to  doubt  the 
truth  of  the  story.  I  wonder  if  the  sword  hair-pin  was 
hers. " 

He  looked  round  at  Greetland  with  the  quick  turn 
of  a  bird  of  prey. 

"Oh,  that  's  going  too  far,"  Greetland  cried,  throwing 
up  his  hand  half  way  in  protest,  then  full  length  to 
hail  a  passing  hansom. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   DUCAL   POINT   OF   VIEW 

Daily  Comet  came  out  next  day  with  its  threat- 
A  ened  sensational  blazon:  the  world  of  London  and 
beyond  greedily  assimilated  the  startling  tale,  and  their 
Graces  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Lancashire  began  to 
have  an  exceedingly  unpleasant  time  of  it.  The  Duke 
especially;  since  he  had  the  Duchess,  as  well  as  the 
Press  and  the  rest  of  the  world,  to  encounter.  He  had 
done  nothing  wrong  (with  the  exception  of  that  bribe 
to  the  late  Dr.  Blaydon)  or  even  foolish,  he  told  himself, 
for  his  little  arrangement  with  the  doctor  had  been 
highly  expedient;  yet  the  affair  had,  by  the  merest 
chance,  taken  this  unfortunate  turn,  and  he  suddenly 
found  his  ducal  neck  and  wrists  in  a  moral  pillory,  with 
a  shower  of  rotten  eggs  unpleasantly  imminent.  Under 
the  circumstances  he  judged  it  wise  to  confine  his  per- 
ambulations within  the  precincts  of  Vaux  House;  hap- 
pily its  grounds  were  extensive,  and  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life  as  he  dispiritedly  paced  them,  he  omitted  to 
regret  the  waste  they  represented  of  colossally  remuner- 
ative building  sites.  He  simply  dared  not  show  his  face 
in  the  streets — not  even  the  streets  that  he  owned — and 
as  to  going  into  one  of  his  clubs,  including  the  House  of 
Lords,  why,  he  would  as  soon  have  walked  into  the 
crater  of  Vesuvius.  So  he  promenaded  up  and  down 
and  around  the  somewhat  dingy  gardens  of  which  the 
sombre  and  blighted  tone  was  in  complete  harmony  with 

37 


38  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

his  feelings.  He  could  hear  passers-by  talking  on  the 
other  side  of  the  high  wall  which  secluded  his  august 
pleasure-ground  from  the  vulgar  world,  and  wondered 
if,  nay,  made  sure,  they  were  discussing  him  and  his 
methods  in  a  spirit  of  galling  irreverence,  if  they  took 
their  tone  from  that  of  the  more  enterprising  journals 
he  had  read.  Yes;  it  was  an  uncomfortable  position  for 
any  one,  let  alone  an  old-established  Duke;  he  became 
sure  certain  people  were  watching  him  from  such  upper 
windows  as  commanded  a  view  of  the  grounds,  since  the 
wall  of  even  an  exclusive  Duke  is  subject  to  certain 
architectural  limitations;  and  he  went  indoors.  On  his 
way  he  saw  people  looking  curiously  through  the  great 
iron  gates  at  the  house  of  mystery  and  crime.  He 
fancied  he  heard  a  murmur  as  he  crossed  their  sight, 
but  that  was  probably  a  symptom  of  hypertrophied 
egoism.  In  his  perturbation  of  mind  he  flung  himself 
into  a  room  which  he  had  intended  to  avoid,  and  found 
himself  alone  with  the  Duchess. 

There  was  something  in  her  eye  which  forbade  re- 
treat. 

"Well?  "  The  monosyllable  was  a  challenge:  more, 
it  was  the  first  flick  of  a  castigation. 

The  Duke  merely  gave  a  shrug  which  was  the  most 
non-committal  answer  that  occurred  to  him. 

"What  is  the  latest?  "  the  Duchess  demanded,  in  a 
tone  which  was  not  to  be  trifled  with. 

"I  have  heard  nothing,  dear.     I  have  not  been  out." 

"I  just  saw  you  come  in." 

"From  the  garden." 

"Why  don't  you  go  out?  " 

The  Duke  made  a  stand.  "I  don't  care  to,  while  this 
wretched  business  is  in  big  letters  at  every  corner." 


THE  DUCAL  POINT  OF  VIEW  39 

"What  is  that  to  us?  You  should  be  above  taking 
notice  of  these  halfpenny  rags.  If  you  are  afraid  of 
walking  on  the  pavements,  have  a  brougham  and  drive 
down  to  the  Carlton.  You  ought  to  hear  what  people 
are  saying." 

"I  am,"  returned  the  Duke,  with  infinite  sense,  "the 
last  person  in  town  to  hear  what  people  are  really  say- 
ing." 

"You  can  go  and  tell  them  what  you  think  about 
the  whole  disgusting  business,"  said  the  Duchess. 

"I  'm  hanged  if  I  do,"  the  Duke  returned.  "If  they 
have  any  sense  they  can  guess  that. " 

"Pray  what  do  you  expect  then  I  am  going  to  do?  " 
the  Duchess  demanded. 

The  Duke  intimated  by  a  shrug  that  he  had  formed 
no  definite  anticipations  as  to  his  consort's  line  of  con- 
duct. 

"If  you  were  not  a  fool,"  she  said,  "you  would  know 
that  people  have  n't  any  sense.  They  just  accept  any 
ideas  that  may  be  given  them." 

"Well,  I  'm  not  going  to  run  about  town  giving  people 
ideas,"  the  Duke  declared  sullenly. 

"You  know  best  how  far  you  are  justified  in  coming 
to  that  decision,"  the  Duchess  returned,  with  a  world 
of  meaning  behind  the  mere  inoffensive  words.  "Then 
you  mean  to  let  these  abominable  papers  have  it  all 
their  own  way?  " 

"I  don't  care." 

"But  you  ought  to  care."  Her  Grace's  temper  was 
rising.  "You  have  no  business  to  be  a  Duke.  You 
are  a  disgrace  to  your  order.  You  '11  get  a  wigging,  my 
dear  boy,  when  the  King  hears  of  it.  Don't  expect  me 
to  come  to  the  rescue,  that's  all.  If  you  don't  face 


40  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

it  out,  I  shall  have  to  leave  town  in  the  height  of 
the  season,  and  I  won't  leave  town,  so  there!  " 

"Leave  town,  Isabel?  What  in  the  name  of  common 
sense  have  we  done  that  we  should  run  away?  "  The 
Duke  was  getting  exasperated. 

"We?  "  screamed  the  Duchess.  "What  have  you 
done?  To  take  trouble  and  spend  money  in  hushing 
a  thing  up,  and  then  to  allow  it  to  come  out,  at  a  par- 
ticularly awkward  time,  too,  is  the  method  of  an  im- 
becile." 

Like  most  stupid  persons  the  Duke  was  sensitive  on 
the  subject  of  nous,  and  the  Duchess  knew  it. 

"Imbecile?  "  he  echoed  huskily.  "I  was  clever 
enough  for  you  to  marry." 

"You  were  clever  enough  to  marry  me,  if  you  like," 
she  returned,  with  a  puff  of  scorn. 

'•' Clever!  "  he  repeated  in  turn,  in  as  withering  a 
voice  as  he  could  command.  "The  general  opinion 
at  the  time,  pretty  freely  expressed,  was  that  I  was  a 
fool." 

"General  opinion!  "  she  returned  with  infinite  con- 
tempt. "The  opinion  of  a  lot  of  women  who  wrere  mad 
to  be  duchesses.  What  is  your  general  opinion  worth 
to-day  in  this  tiresome  affair?  As  worthless  and  wrong 
as  usual.  No,  John,  you  did  a  good  thing  for  yourself 
when  you  married  me,  and  you  know  it." 

"I  know  it?  " 

"I  have  made  you." 

This  was  too  much.  Here  was  the  once  Miss  Isabel 
Grendon,  a  nobody  with  a  pretty  face  and  trim  figure 
to  whom  he  had,  after  much  hesitation,  played  Cophetua, 
talking  of  having  made  a  Duke  of  eight  generations. 
"Made  me!  "  he  cried  thickly,  in  his  ducal  indignation. 


THE  DUCAL  POINT  OF  VIEW  41 

"  I  had  an  idea  that  the  Dukes  of  Lancashire  were  made, 
as  you  call  it,  some  hundreds  of  years  before  your  name 
appeared  on  the  roll." 

"Made?  Yes,  I  dare  say;  after  a  fashion.  But  you 
were  not  worth  noticing,  even  when  you  had  got  your 
coronets  on.  Before  I  took  you  in  hand  you  were 
nobodies. " 

"Nobodies!  "  the  Duke  could  only  echo.  In  this 
rarified  atmosphere  of  insult  independent  argument, 
and  even  utterance,_were  asphyxiated. 

"Nobodies,"  the  Duchess  maintained  with  exasper- 
ating insistence.  "I  've  seen  your  mother  waiting  in 
Johnson  and  Maxtons  to  be  served  and  none  of  the  shop 
people  would  notice  her.  They  knew  well  enough  who 
she  was,  and  that  she  had  come  in  to  spend  half  an  hour 
in  buying  a  few  yards  of  sevenpence-halfpenny  lace  to 
furbish  up  an  old  gown  which  her  own  housekeeper 
would  n't  have  looked  at  except  to  sell  to  the  dustman 
to  dress  his  wife  in  for  Hampstead  Heath.  J'ai  change 
tout  cela. " 

"Yes,  you  have,"  assented  the  Duke,  recovering  his 
breath  as  his  wife  lost  hers.  "And  if  extravagance 
makes  a  man,  you  have  made  me. " 

"One  owes  something  to  one's  position,"  argued  the 
lady. 

"You  owe  a  great  deal,  my  dear,  not  to  say  every- 
thing, "  retorted  the  Duke,  in  a  happy  flash. 

"To  be  Duchess  of  Lancashire  meant  next  to  nothing 
before  my  day, "  her  Grace  proceeded,  ignoring  the  hit. 
"I  saw  the  possibilities  of  the  position." 

"  No  doubt, "  agreed  the  Duke. 

"And  have  raised  it  to  its  proper  level  in  accordance 
with  modern  ideas.  I  found  you  thrown  away  in  a 


42  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

dusthole,  I  have  polished  you  up  and  brought  you  into 
the  drawing-room. " 

"Have  you  indeed?  Very  obliging  of  you,"  was  all 
the  Duke  could  say. 

"You  think,"  went  on  the  Duchess,  having  got  again 
out  of  the  tanglewood  into  a  straight  run,  "you  think 
that  a  Duke  can  go  about  like  an  old-clothes  man,  and 
his  Duchess  like  a  laundress,  and  be  respected.  That 
shows  what  a  fool  you  are,  John.  You  imagine  in  your 
stupidity  that  people  in  our  position  can  defy  appear- 
ances and  do  just  as  we  like.  So  we  can;  but  the 
world  very  soon  takes  care  to  show  us  that  if  we  like 
to  drop  out  it  won't  detain  us.  To-day  the  world  thinks 
exactly  as  much  of  us  as  we  show  it  we  think  of  our- 
selves. It  was  all  very  well  while  the  Feudal  System 
lingered,  and  there  was  no  moneyed  mob  to  challenge 
us.  In  these  days  of  shallow  pretension  and  surface 
estimation  a  Duke  in  a  bad  hat  is  thought  less  of  than 
a  bookmaker  in  a  good  one;  a  dowdy  Duchess  cannot 
hold  her  own  against  a  smart  milliner.  The  world  to- 
day does  not  bother  itself  to  think  who  you  are,  and 
what  your  ancestors  have  been  and  done,  in  short  what 
that  bad  hat  really  covers;  it  wants  you  to  show  un- 
mistakably that  you  spend  your  money — or  other  peo- 
ples'— and  add  to  the  general  amusement.  Everything 
is  theatrical  nowadays,  all  glitter  and  show,  and  the 
crowd  does  not  ask  itself  what  the  gorgeous  scenery  looks 
like  from  the  back.  It  is  as  though  people  preferred  a 
highly  coloured  landscape  in  the  theatre,  just  canvas, 
distemper  and  limelight,  to  the  real  thing  on  one  of  our 
estates.  Yes,  John,  you  are  a  fool  not  to  see  what  I  Ve 
done  for  you  and  your  House. " 

The  Duke  accepted  the  long  lecture,  not  because  it 


THE  DUCAL  POINT  OF  VIEW  43 

convinced  him  or  uprooted  his  belief  in  the  infallibility 
of  his  family  ways,  but  because  he  was  given  no  chance 
of  interrupting  it.  When  it  had  come  to  an  end,  he 
said,  not  unnaturally,  "I  don't  quite  see  what  all  this 
has  to  do  with  the  present  business.  What  are  we  going 
to  do?  " 

"I  have  told  you,"  insisted  the  Duchess.  "Go  down 
to  the  clubs  and  face  it  out. " 

"I  'm  damned  if  I  do,"  said  the  Duke,  exasperated 
to  find  his  patience  had  gained  him  nothing. 

"If  you  are  going  to  be  vulgar "  began  the 

Duchess. 

"  I  'm  not  going  down  to  the  clubs, "  he  maintained. 

"You  've  got  to  go,  John,  and  the  sooner  the  better. " 

"I  tell  you  I  won't!  " 

"You  prefer  to  skulk  here?  " 

"  If  it  had  n't  been  for  your  unreasonable  folly  about 
that  wretched  footman "  he  began. 

"  I  'm  not  going  to  be  seen  with  footmen  that  don't 
match  for  you  or  anybody.  You  '11  be  expecting  me 
next  to  wear  odd  gloves  or  shoes  or  stockings." 

The  Duke  was  relieved  from  trying  for  a  reply  to 
this  unanswerable  argument  by  a  knock  at  the  door. 

"Mr.  Play  ford  is  in  the  blue  drawing-room,  your 
Grace. " 

The  Duke  glanced  rather  helplessly  at  his  wife. 

"Show  Mr.  Playford  here,"  she  said  to  the  man,  with 
decision.  "Now  we  shall  hear  something  of  what  is 
being  said  in  the  world  outside,  which  you  have  n't  the 
pluck  to  face.  Aubrey  Playford  knows  everything. " 

Next  moment  the  omniscient  one  was  shaking  hands 
with  them,  and  wondering  curiously  what  sort  of  a  tete- 
a-tete  he  had  interrupted.  As  the  Duchess  was  so  smil- 


44  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

ing  and  the  Duke  so  obviously  relieved,  he  concluded 
that  he  had  broken  up  a  row. 

"  Is  n't  it  too  disgustingly  provoking,  this  fuss  about 
that  tiresome  affair!  "  the  Duchess  said,  as  soon  as  they 
had  settled  down.  "These  wretched  cheap  papers." 

"  Oh,  they  must  have  a  sensation, "  Playford  answered, 
politely  sympathetic.  "One  comfort  is  that  nobody  be- 
lieves half  they  read  in  them. " 

No  one  could  be  better  aware  than  Aubrey  Playford 
of  the  falseness  of  that  statement.  No  one  knew  better 
than  he,  a  keen  observer  of  his  kind,  that  people  are 
only  too  greedy  to  take  in  everything,  without  discount, 
that  can  be  said  or  printed  to  their  neighbour's  obloquy, 
or  disadvantage,  and  more  particularly  when  that  neigh- 
bour happens  to  hold  a  high  position.  Under  some 
conditions  Playford  would  have  been  spiteful  enough  to 
say  so,  and  indulge  in  a  half-hour  of  moral  vivisection; 
but  that  was  not  his  cue  nor  his  purpose  to-day. 

"It  is  altogether  most  provoking,"  the  Duchess  de- 
clared. "What  are  they  saying  about  it,  Aubrey?  I 
don't  mean  the  wretched  papers,  but  at  the  clubs?  " 

Playford  gave  a  shrug.  "What  do  they  ever  say  at 
the  clubs  beyond  what  some  one  tells  them  to  say?  " 
he  replied,  with  a  cynical  contempt  that,  coming  to  him 
so  easily,  seemed  a  characteristic.  "I  haven't  heard 
much.  Piersfield  was  full  of  it,  as  he  would  be,  but 
more  in  the  way  of  collecting  than  distributing,  and,  of 
course,  little  Roddy  Arden  was  making  the  most  of  a 
new  sensation.  By  the  way,  it  was  pretty  well  known 
yesterday  among  what  I  call  the  professionals,  Dormer 
Greetland  and  his  school,  and  they  naturally  made  the 
most  of  their  twenty-four  hours'  start  with  the  news." 

The  Duke  groaned.     "All  through  a  wretched  foot- 


THE  DUCAL  POINT  OF  VIEW  45 

man.  It  is  terrible  to  think  how  mean  an  instrument 
it  takes  to  set  the  world  agog  and  to  bring  us  into  un- 
pleasant notoriety." 

"Oh,  it  is  nothing,"  said  his  visitor  in  a  tone  between 
sympathy  and  indifference.  "I  certainly  should  not 
worry  about  it  if  I  were  you.  It  won't  be  even  a  nine 
days'  wonder.  The  Rullington  case  comes  on  next  Mon- 
day; there  will  be  some  pretty  disclosures  for  the  mob 
in  that,  and  I  hear  that  Lady  Rullington  has  her  trunks 
ready  packed,  and  is  prepared  to  skip. " 

The  Duchess  raised  her  eyebrows.  "As  bad  as  that? 
It  is  a  pity  that  a  presumably  sensible  woman  as  Maud 
Rullington  was  at  one  time  should  have  such  a  vague 
idea  as  to  where  to  draw  the  line. " 

The  Duke  breathed  heavily  through  his  set  teeth. 
"These  liftings  of  the  curtain  for  the  benefit  of  the  mob 
are  very  damaging  and  regrettable." 

"They  are,"  Play  ford  agreed.  "And  the  man  in  the 
street  is  getting  every  day  more  eager  for  a  peep. " 

"The  man  in  the  street,"  said  the  Duke,  the  phrase 
bringing  to  his  mind  an  unpleasant  reminiscence,  "has 
been  waiting  outside  my  gates  all  day  for  a  peep.  I 
don't  know  what  we  are  coming  to  when  our  very  pri- 
vacy is  invaded." 

"It  is  a  sign  of  these  times  of  undesirable  publicity," 
Playford  answered,  almost  with  a  yawn.  He  had  not 
come  there  to  listen  to  his  Grace's  platitudinous  com- 
plaints, and  was  awaiting  his  opportunity  for  something 
else.  As  for  the  Lancashires,  why,  who  can  bring  him- 
self to  sympathize  with  a  Duke  and  Duchess  in  their 
social  embarrassments?  Are  they  not  considered  to 
stand  too  high  on  their  pedestals  for  the  sympathy  of 
the  crowd  below  to  reach  them,  and  to  deserve  any  little 


46  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

exposure  which  their  exalted  position  invites?  At  any 
rate,  they  were  just  now  but  the  king  and  queen  of 
Aubrey  Playford's  chessboard. 

"I  don't  think  you  need  fear  any  pointing  of  scan- 
dal's finger  at  you,"  he  observed,  with  a  confidence- 
imparting  smile.  "The  question  which  will  be  agitating 
everybody's  mind,  when  once  they  have  arrived  at  the 
real  bearings  of  the  business,  will  be,  who  was  the 
lady?  " 

"Ah,  yes,"  exclaimed  the  Duke,  somewhat  relieved. 

"But,  Aubrey,"  the  Duchess  protested,  "we  are  as 
much  in  the  dark  there  as  anybody  else." 

Playford's  dark  eyes  looked  hungrily  shrewd.  "You 
have  no  idea,  Duchess?  "  he  asked,  with  a  touch  of 
incredulity. 

"Not  the  remotest,"  she  replied. 

"I  wish  we  had,"  chimed  in  the  Duke,  and  then  fell 
to  wondering  vaguely  exactly  what  he  would  do  with 
the  information  if  he  had  it. 

The  Duchess  had  her  eyes  fixed  on  her  visitor's  shrewd 
face.  "You  know,  Aubrey?  "  she  demanded,  with  a 
look  of  conviction. 

Playford's  astute  smile  broadened  as  he  shook  his 
head.  "Not  I,  Duchess.  But  I  might  perhaps  give 
a  guess  for  what  it  is  worth." 

"Let's  have  it,"  cried  the  Duke,  all  attention. 

Playford  looked  inscrutable.  "It  is  dangerous  work 
guessing,"  he  returned,  "unless  one  has  something  to 
go  upon.  I  was  only  suggesting  it  that  the  hounds  of 
scandal  may  prefer  to  follow  that  fox  to  this  if  there 
should  be  a  cross-scent." 

"Quite  so,"  the  Duke  agreed,  none  the  less  confi- 
dently that  the  idea  had  never  occurred  to  him. 


THE  DUCAL  POINT  OF  VIEW  47 

The  Duchess  was  reflecting.  "We  have  not  much  to 
go  upon,"  she  said  slowly.  "It  was  so  long  ago." 

"You  have,"  suggested  Playford,  "the  ornament,  the 
diamond  hair-pin,  was  it  not,  that  the  man  found?  " 

"Ah,  yes."     She  turned  to  him  with  alert  scrutiny. 

"That  won't  be  claimed,"  said  the  Duke,  with  a 
short  laugh. 

"Claimed!  How  stupid  you  are,  John!  "  Her  im- 
patient exclamation  scarcely  took  her  eyes  from  Play- 
ford's  face. 

"It  will  probably  be  claimed  by  Scotland  Yard," 
remarked  that  gentleman  with  easy  premonition.  "I 
am  surprised  they  have  not  been  here  yet.  I  see, 
though,  they  say  they  have  no  knowledge  of  the  affair. 
So  like  them.  Perhaps  they  expected  to  be  sent  for. 
May  I  see  the  thing  before  it  goes?  " 

"The  ornament?  "  The  Duke  glanced  at  his  wife 
in  some  hesitation.  She  had  taken  the  tiresome  thing 
and  locked  it  up,  being  in  no  mood  to  pander  to  an 
already  more  than  objectionable  curiosity.  He  waited 
to  see  how  she  would  refuse,  but  she  rose,  and  saying, 
"I  will  get  it,"  left  the  room. 

"The  Duchess  is  not  going  to  show  it  to  everybody," 
said  the  Duke,  with  a,  possibly  manneristic,  touch  of 
patronage. 

"No,  I  shouldn't,"  Playford  commented,  with  a 
shrewd  smile.  He  thought  he  knew  why  he  was  made 
the  exception,  and  was  not  going  to  take  is  as  a  favour. 

His  manner,  with  men  at  least,  Dukes  included,  was 
rather  more  brusque  than  his  present  host  liked,  so  no 
word  further  was  spoken  till  the  Duchess  returned. 

"Here  it  is,"  she  said,  and  unwrapped  the  tissue 
paper  from  the  unhappy  piece  of  evidence.  There  it 


48  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

was.  A  miniature  sword,  the  blade  tarnished  gold,  the 
hilt  set  with  diamonds,  and  the  point  broken  off. 

Playford  watched  its  uncovering  eagerly.  As  it  was 
disclosed  he  put  out  his  hand  to  take  it,  and,  as  he  did 
so,  glanced  up  in  the  Duchess's  face.  He  did  not  mean 
to  tell  her  anything,  yet  she  saw  in  his  eyes  something 
that  said  a  good  deal.  Next  moment  he  had  turned 
away  to  the  light  and  was  scrutinizing  the  little  sword 
closely,  eagerly,  as  a  man  will  who  wants  to  carry  in 
his  mind  the  exact  image  of  an  object  he  may  not  see 
again. 

The  Duke  and  Duchess  stood  behind  him  in  expect- 
ant silence.  But  they  both  looked  rather  blank  when 
he  at  length  turned  to  them  and  affected  to  be  studying 
a  stain  of  rust  on  the  blade. 

"That  looks  as  though  it  might  have  been  blood," 
he  said,  tapping  it  with  his  finger  nail. 

"Hah:  do  you  think  so?  "  returned  the  Duke  in  a 
non-committal  tone. 

"  Should  n't  be  surprised, "  Playford  replied  in  an 
abominably  disappointing  way.  "  But  I  'm  not  an 
analyst. " 

"Do  you  recognize  the  sword,  Aubrey?  "  asked  the 
Duchess,  with  manifestly  restrained  impatience. 

Playford  looked  at  her  with  a  fine  assumption  of 
surprise.  "No.  Why?  Ought  I  to?  "  he  asked.  "Do 
you  know  the  owner?  " 

"I  thought  you  did,"  she  returned  pointedly. 

He  handed  it  back  with  a  laugh.  "  Not  I.  It  is  not 
an  uncommon  device.  I  fancy  even  Scotland  Yard  will 
have  some  trouble  in  following  up  that  clue.  Thanks 
for  letting  me  see  it,  Duchess.  I  'm  afraid  I  have  rather 
a  taste  for  the  morbid. " 


THE  DUCAL  POINT  OF  VIEW  49 

She  was  evidently  not  going  to  get  anything  out  of 
him  that  would  pay  for  the  trouble  of  fetching  the 
corpus  delicti,  and  so  her  Grace  wrapped  it  up  again  in 
no  very  amiable  mood.  Her  visitor's  reticence  was  the 
more  exasperating  in  that  her  instinct  told  her  he  could, 
if  he  chose,  give  a  shrewd  guess  at  the  owner.  Except 
as  a  matter  of  feminine  curiosity  she  did  not  care  much 
to  know  what  she  was  convinced  Playford  might  have 
told  her;  but  she  did  not  consider  it  consistent  with 
her  dignity  to  be  thus  made  use  of,  and  she  felt  very 
much  inclined  to  be  rude  to  her  departing  guest.  And 
it  is  given  to  Duchesses  to  be  very  rude  when  they  like. 
Then  a  certain  idea  of  the  inexpediency  of  venting  her 
spleen  occurred  to  her  just  in  time;  perhaps  she  realized 
that  Aubrey  Playford  was  a  dangerous  man  for  even  a 
Duchess  to  snub,  and  she  let  him  go  in  peace. 

But  the  Duke,  who  dared  not  go  out,  remained  to 
her;  and  he  went  to  bed  that  night  feeling  that  the 
world  may  be  made  very  unpleasant,  even  for  a  Duke. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   MAN   WHO    GUESSED 

COUNTESS  ALEXIA  of  Rohnburg  had  had  a  few 
of  her  intimate  friends  to  luncheon  at  the  house 
in  Green  Street,  and  the  last  of  them,  Mary  Riverdale, 
was  still  sitting  with  her  in  cosy  chat  when  a  note  was 
brought  in.  That  her  hostess  did  not  like  the  look  of 
the  handwriting  on  the  envelope,  Miss  Riverdale  was 
sure.  But  she  forbore  the  comment  to  which  her  inti- 
macy might  have  entitled  her,  and  contented  herself 
with  running  through  a  picture  book  while  Alexia  read 
the  note. 

"Is — any  one  waiting?  "  the  Countess  had  asked. 

"No,  madame, "  answered  the  man,  unsatisfyingly 
laconic,  as  became  his  position. 

Alexia  read  the  note,  restored  it  to  its  envelope  and 
put  it,  address  downwards,  on  the  table.  Her  visitor 
threw  aside  the  Graphic,  and  for  a  few  moments  there 
was  a  constrained  silence,  a  pause  of  mental  self-con- 
sciousness, almost  awkward,  considering  how  intimate 
the  two  were.  But  both  of  them,  young  though  they 
might  be,  were  too  experienced  players  in  that  every- 
day game  of  social  diplomacy  to  let  an  embarrassment 
become  manifest.  Yet  there  will  assert  itself,  in  spite 
of  tact  and  artifice,  a  certain  instinct  which  tells  us  our 
companions  are  reading  our  thoughts  and  gauging  our 
dilemmas. 

"I  wonder  what  the  next  development  of  the  Vaux 

50 


THE  MAN  WHO  GUESSED  51 

House  mystery  will  be, "  Miss  Riverdale  observed,  quot- 
ing the  headline  of  the  Daily  Comet. 

The  affair  had,  as  was  natural,  been  the  subject  of 
animated  discussion  at  luncheon,  and  it  seemed  scarcely 
worth  while  to  reopen  it. 

The  Countess  gave  a  shrug.  "We  must  wait  and 
see,"  she  answered  mechanically.  "The  poor  Duch- 
ess! One  almost  feels  one  ought  to  leave  cards  of 
enquiry. " 

"The  poor  Duke,"  laughed  her  friend.  "They  will 
get  more  fun  out  of  him  than  ever.  Not  but  what  this 
is  a  serious  matter. " 

"You  really  think  so?  "  The  talk  was  being  sus- 
tained by  an  effort  on  both  sides,  and  Alexia's  question 
sounded  suspiciously  like  covering  a  yawn. 

"Don't  you?  "  the  other  returned,  in  languid  sur- 
prise. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  suppose  so.     If  it  is  all  true." 

"Of  course  if  it  is  n't  true  we  shall  have  a  disclaimer 
from  the  Lancashires  to-morrow. " 

"I  mean  the  connection  between  the  broken  orna- 
ment, the  little  sword,  or  whatever  it  is,  and  poor  Cap- 
tain Martindale's  death.  You  knew  him,  Mary?  " 

"Only  by  sight.     You  did,  dear,  didn't  you?  " 

"Casually.  Meeting  him  about.  As  a  matter  of  fact 
I  was  to  have  danced  with  him  at  the  very  time  he 
was  found  dead." 

"Alix!    You  never  told  me  that.    How  awful!  " 

"It  might  have  been,"  the  Countess  responded  com- 
posedly. "But  I  did  not  see  him.  It  was  late;  a  good 
many  people  had  gone.  He  did  not  come  for  his  dance; 
then  there  was  a  fuss:  we  were  told,  at  least  I  was,  that 
Captain  Martindale  had  had  a  fit,  and  people  went  off. 


52  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

I  fancy  most  of  the  men  knew  the  real  state  of  the 
case. " 

Miss  Riverdale  gave  a  little  shudder.  "  Horrible!  At 
a  dance,  too." 

"Yes.  It  was  upsetting,  even  to  us  who  did  not 
know  the  truth.  As  we  were  going,  a  doctor  bustled  in, 
shivering  in  a  great-coat  buttoned  up  to  hide  the  fact 
that  he  was  only  half  dressed.  I  have  often  thought 
that  great-coat  in  the  ball-room  brought  home  the  idea 
of  a  tragedy  more  vividly  than  the  sight  of  the  dead  man 
could  have  done.  Ugh!  Don't  let 's  talk  about  it  any 
more,  or  I  shall  get  the  blues. " 

Her  visitor  rose.  "You  look,  my  dear  Alix,  as  though 
you  had  them  already.  Come  across  the  Park  with 
me.  I  am  going  that  way  home;  we  are  pretty  sure 
to  meet  some  one  to  enliven  us. " 

Alexia  shook  her  head.  "I  was  out  all  the  morning 
and  am  rather  tired.  I  feel  too  dull  even  to  ask  you 
to  stay." 

Miss  Riverdale  scarcely  needed  a  hint  to  see  that  she 
had  suddenly  become  de  trop.  She  wondered  whether 
her  hostess's  sudden  preoccupation  was  not  due  to  the 
letter  just  received;  but  to  wonder  was  all  that  was 
permitted  her. 

Scarcely  had  the  door  closed  upon  her  visitor  when 
Alexia  took  up  the  note  and  read  it  through  again,  and 
this  time  there  was  no  need  for  her  to  hide  her  dis- 
quietude. The  words  were  few. 

"DEAR  COUNTESS, — 

"I  have  something  of  great  importance  to  say  to 
you;  if  you  read  the  papers  you  will  doubtless  guess 
to  what  I  refer.  Will  you,  in  your  own  interest,  be 


THE  MAN  WHO  GUESSED  53 

good  enough  to  remove  for  once  the  embargo  you  have 
laid  on  my  visits,  and  be  at  home  when  I  call  at  four 
this  afternoon? 

"Yours  sincerely, 

"  AUBREY  PLAYFORD.  " 

She  read  it  through  twice,  and  as  she  did  so,  she 
seemed  to  be  struggling  to  evade  the  grip  of  a  strong  will 
that  lurked  beneath  the  words.  Then,  mechanically, 
she  put  the  note  back  into  its  envelope  and  turned  to 
glance  at  the  clock.  It  was  nearly  four.  She  hesitated 
for  a  few  moments,  as  taking  counsel  with  herself;  then 
rang  the  bell. 

"I  am  at  home  to  Mr.  Playford  when  he  calls  this 
afternoon,"  she  told  the  man,  giving  the  order  with  a 
plain-spoken  authority  which  disarmed  all  suspicion  of 
an  impropriety. 

She  had  not  long  to  wait  before  the  expected  visitor 
was  announced. 

Playford  came  in  deferentially  confident  and  inscru- 
table, and  as  Alexia  rose  to  receive  him  her  eyes  met 
his  boldly  in  a  look  of  challenge. 

"Bring  tea,"  she  said  casually  to  the  man  as  he  left 
the  room.  She  was  not  going  to  indue  this  unwelcome 
visit  with  any  mysterious  importance. 

"  It  was  good  of  you,  Countess,  to  grant  my  request, " 
Playford  said,  as  he  sat  down,  and  let  his  eyes  rest  with 
covetous  admiration  on  the  beautiful  woman  before  him. 
"I  hope  it  has  not  been  inconvenient;  but  the  matter 
on  which  it  was  necessary  to  see  you  was  urgent. " 

"Not  at  all,"  she  answered  coolly.  "I  have  had 
some  people  to  luncheon,  and  they  have  only  just  gone. 
What  did  you  want  to  tell  me?  " 


54  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"I  gave  you  a  hint,  Countess,  in  my  note." 

"Please  explain  it." 

"You  did  not  understand  it?  "  The  tone  was  incred- 
ulous; coupled  with  the  sly  look,  almost  offensively  so. 

"Not  in  the  least,"  Alexia  returned  simply,  so  di- 
rectly as  to  blunt  the  point  of  the  insinuation. 

But  Playford  was  not  the  man  to  show  a  repulse. 
"It  is  about  this  business  at  Vaux  House,"  he  said, 
with  quiet  incisiveness. 

"Oh?    What  of  that?    How  does  it  concern  me?  " 

If  she  was  playing  a  part,  her  skill  called  forth  his 
grudging  admiration;  grudging  because  he  knew  from 
her  tone  that,  except  under  duress,  she  was  not  for  him. 

"You  know,  Countess,"  he  replied,  speaking  now  with 
forced  directness;  "you  have  seen  that  the  little  jew- 
elled sword,  a  hair  ornament,  with  which  Reggie  Mar- 
tindale  was  killed,  has  been  found?  " 

"Yes,"  she  responded  casually;  "I  saw  that  in  the 
paper. " 

He  told  himself,  as  he  watched  her,  that  she  had  gone 
a  shade  paler;  that  was  all;  and  he  could  not  be  quite 
certain  of  that. 

"Do  you  believe  it?  "  she  added,  as  he  paused,  so 
to  speak,  on  the  strike. 

"It  is  true  enough,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  that  took  the 
question  out  of  the  region  of  the  debatable.  "Reggie 
Martindale  was  done  to  death  that  night;  why — only 
one  person,  probably,  on  this  earth  knows;  but  that  he 
did  not  die  a  natural  death  has  all  along  been  almost 
an  open  secret." 

"Has  it?  "  she  observed  simply,  yet  with  the  slight- 
est touch  of  contradiction.  "Yes;  well,  I  have  heard 
as  much.  Mr.  Dormer  Greetland  was  telling  us  a  long 


THE  MAN  WHO  GUESSED  55 

story  about  it  a  day  or  two  ago.  Still,  I  don't  see  how 
it  concerns  me." 

She  was  better  entrenched  against  his  attack,  he  was 
forced  to  admit,  than  he  had  thought  to  find  her;  still, 
the  defence  should  not  serve. 

"I'm  afraid  it  does  concern  you,  Countess,  very 
nearly,"  he  replied,  in  a  tone  dark  with  impending 
mischief. 

"Tell  me  how,  Mr.  Playford." 

He  gave  a  slight  bow,  as  accepting  the  challenge. 
"I  have  seen  this  little  weapon,  the  tiny  sword;  a 
dangerous  ornament,  Countess." 

"Yes?  "  There  seemed  little  more  than  a  half- 
amused  curiosity  in  her  tone. 

"The  Duchess  showed  it  to  me,  and — I  recognized 
it." 

Alexia  laughed.  "Ah,  now  I  know.  I  think  I  have 
guessed  this  mysterious  piece  of  news.  I  suppose  you 
are  going  to  say  that  you  have  recognized  this  formid- 
able ornament  as  belonging  to  me. " 

Manifestly  he  did  not  like  the  words  being  taken  out 
of  his  mouth,  but  he  could  only  respond,  with  a  slight 
bow  of  assent,  "You  have  guessed  it,  Countess." 

She  laughed  again.  "My  dear  Mr.  Playford,  what 
an  absurd  idea!  "  Any  one  would  have  thought  from 
her  manner  and  his  that  she  had  him  discomfited;  but 
Aubrey  Playford  was  not  the  man  to  be  so  easily  beaten 
off. 

"Hardly  absurd,  Countess."  That  was  all  he  could 
say,  for  the  door  opened  and  tea  was  brought  in. 

"Is  the  poor  Duke  very  much  upset?  "  Alexia  en- 
quired, giving  the  necessary  turn  to  the  conversation 
while  the  men  were  in  the  room. 


56  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

Playford  gave  an  appropriately  humorous  answer  as 
to  the  ducal  state  of  mind,  all  the  while  eyeing  the  girl 
searchingly,  and  in  spite  of  himself,  inclined  to  wonder 
whether,  after  all,  he  might  not  have  made  a  mistake. 

When  they  were  alone  once  more,  their  talk  did  not 
for  the  moment  revert  to  its  former  and  more  danger- 
ous channel.  Perhaps  both  were  glad  of  an  armistice 
after  the  first  trial  of  strength,  of  a  short  breathing 
space  now  that  the  methods  of  attack  and  defence  were 
declared.  Alexia  poured  out  the  two  cups  of  tea,  and 
did  not  raise  her  eyes  from  the  table  until  Playford 
had  taken  his  cup.  Then  she  leaned  back  in  her  chair 
and  faced  him  boldly  as  ever. 

"You  come  here  to  tell  me  that?  " 

His  eyes  were  on  her,  alert  as  a  fencer's.  "Could  I 
do  otherwise?  " 

"Surely,"  she  returned,  with  something  like  con- 
tempt. "Even  if  it  were  true." 

''I  don't  think  I  have  made  a  mistake,  Countess." 
He  spoke  slowly  with  a  staccato  enunciation  of  the  words. 

"You  have,  Mr.  Playford."  The  cool  incisiveness 
of  her  tone  stung  him. 

"How?  "  he  asked,  with  an  ugly  look  of  fight  in  his 
malicious  eyes. 

She  was  ready  with  her  answer.  "To  begin  with, 
in  coming  here  at  all;  to  a  house,  I  mean,  where  you 
might  know  you  would  not  be  welcome." 

"Obviously,"  he  retorted  with  a  smile,  "as  the  bearer 
of  unwelcome  news. " 

"Which,  if  true,  would  be  no  news." 

The  hit  was  palpable,  but  he  gave  no  sign  that  he 
felt  it.  "I  came  to  warn  you,"  he  said,  still  watching 
her  darkly. 


THE  MAN  WHO  GUESSED  57 

"It  was  very  kind  of  you,"  she  returned,  with  a 
touch  of  contemptuous  irony,  "and  quite  unneces- 
sary. " 

Manifestly  the  time  for  fencing  was  past.  Playford 
rose,  ostensibly  to  put  down  his  cup,  but  he  remained 
standing  over  her.  "Countess,"  he  began,  in  a  tone 
that  had  a  deeper  vibration  in  it,  "Alexia 

She  raised  her  head  imperiously.  "Mr.  Playford,  I 
have  forbidden  you  to  address  me  in  that  manner." 

"I  know,"  he  assented.  "And  you  have  forbidden 
me  your  house. " 

She  gave  a  little  scornful  nod  of  agreement. 

"For  no  adequate  reason,"  he  protested.  "My  pre- 
sumption, as  no  doubt  you  would  call  it " 

"Persecution,"  she  corrected. 

"Not  persecution,"  he  argued.  "That  is  a  hard 
word  to  use  towards  a  man  whose  love  overmasters 
him  and  makes  him  unduly  importunate." 

"A  man,"  she  replied,  and  from  her  tone  she  might 
have  been  discussing  the  point  merely  from  an  academ- 
ical point  of  view,  "a  man  who  cannot  control  his 
feelings,  but  allows  them  to  get  the  better  of  him  to 
the  annoyance  of  others,  deserves  to  be  kept  at  a  dis- 
tance, even  as  you  have  been." 

The  last  touch  perceptibly  stung  him.  There  was  an 
unpleasant  gleam  in  his  eye  as  he  returned,  "But  I 
am  determined  my  state  of  banishment  from  you  shall 
last  no  longer. " 

Her  dark  eyes  were  raised  in  half-amused  scorn. 
"Indeed?  I  think  that  rests  with  me  rather  than  with 
you,  Mr.  Playford." 

"It  did,"  he  retorted  viciously;  "but  it  does  no 
longer."  He  bent  over  her.  "Alexia " 


58  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

She  motioned  him  away,  and  rose.  "No,"  she  said, 
for  the  first  time  showing  anger;  "I  will  not  allow  you 
to  call  me  that. " 

"I  think  you  will,"  he  returned.  "Let  us  under- 
stand one  another." 

"If  you  think  there  is  any  misapprehension,"  she 
said,  now  cold  again;  "there  is  none  on  my  part." 

"I  think  there  is,"  he  rejoined  significantly. 

"No,"  she  maintained  scornfully.  "I  can  reckon 
you  up,  Mr.  Playford.  I  am  sorry  you  should  have 
thought  proper  to  come  here  to  threaten  me." 

"Have  I?  "  he  broke  in  protestingly.  "Have  I 
threatened  you?  " 

"If  not,"  she  answered,  "I  confess  I  do  not  see  the 
drift  of  what  you  have  said." 

"In  my  own  justification,  let  me  tell  you,"  he 
urged.  "Please." 

Alexia  resumed  her  seat  with  a  significant  glance 
at  the  clock.  "I  hope  it  will  not  take  you  very 
long." 

How  he  hated  her,  this  scornful,  imperious  beauty, 
who  was  meeting  his  attack  so  skilfully;  hated  her  for 
her  contempt  and  rejection  of  him,  yet  loved  her  with 
a  fierceness  and  pervasiveness  which  he  was,  with  all 
his  self-control,  unable  to  subdue;  while  he  hated  and 
cursed  the  bands  of  the  passion  that  encompassed 
him. 

"I  certainly  did  not  come  here  to  threaten  you, 
Countess,"  he  began,  in  a  tone  schooled  almost  to 
apology.  "I  should  hardly  have  brought  myself  to 
repay  your  graciousness  in  receiving  me  by  an  action 
so  ill  as  that.  I  have  simply  come  here,  led,  driven  by 
an  impulse  which  you  forbid  me  to  name,  to  make  a 


THE  MAN  WHO  GUESSED  59 

proposition  to  you,  or,  if  you  prefer  the  word,  a  bar- 
gain with  you." 

Lying  back  in  her  low  chair,  her  eyes  fixed  almost 
dreamily  upon  the  little  gold  pencil-case  which  she 
lazily  pushed  in  and  out,  she  just  lifted  them  for  an 
instant  to  Playford's  face,  then  lowered  them  again. 
But  from  the  light  of  that  instant's  glance  he  saw  no 
encouragement. 

"It  is  easy,"  he  went  on,  for  the  pause  had  been 
but  momentary,  and  Alexia  showed  no  desire  to  inter- 
rupt him,  "  it  is  easy  to  moralize  and  to  propound  codes 
of  so-called  honour,  but  when  a  man  is  possessed  by  a 
love  as  desperate,  as  all-absorbing  as  mine,  he  is  scarcely 
to  be  blamed  if,  while  human  nature  remains  as  it  is, 
he  seizes  any  advantage  which  fate  may  give  him." 

"Advantage?  "  she  repeated  thoughtfully.  "You 
say  Fate  has  given  you  an  advantage — over  me?  " 

There  was  an  infinity  of  suggestion,  of  latent  disdain, 
in  the  question. 

"Don't  let  us  put  it  that  way,  Countess,"  he  protested. 

"The  word  was  yours,  not  mine,"  she  returned. 

"True.  But  the  application  was  yours.  Let  us  look 
the  situation  squarely  in  the  face,"  he  proceeded,  anx- 
ious now  to  come  to  the  point,  lest  the  interview  should 
be  interrupted  before  he  had  declared  himself.  "Don't 
you  think  that,  as  you  and  I  are,  presumably,  the  only 
people  in  the  world  who  know  your  secret,  we — we 
might  share  more  than  that?  " 

He  paused  for  her  answer,  but  none  came.  Her  at- 
titude suggested  that  she  was  waiting  for  him  to  go  on 
to  the  end,  if  it  were  not  already  reached. 

"Countess!" 

Thus  called  upon,  she  looked  up. 


60  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"With  regard  to  your  proposal,"  she  said,  in  quite  a 
matter-of-fact  tone,  "it  has  the  disadvantage  of  being 
based  upon  false  premises. ' 

"How?  " 

"You  talk  of  my  secret — dangerous  secret,  I  think 
you  called  it.  I  have  no  secret,  dangerous  or  harmless, 
that  can  be  shared  by  you — or  anything  else." 

He  took  a  step  'nearer  and  lowered  his  tone  as  he 
replied,  "This  is  absurd,  Countess.  You  will  not  put 
me  off  so.  The  little  weapon  with  which  Martindale 
was  killed  belonged  to  you. " 

"Indeed?  "  She  gave  a  laugh.  "I  do  not  admit 
that  for  an  instant;  but,  supposing  it  did,  what  then?  " 

He  had  scarcely  expected  this  unwavering  defence, 
this  absence  of  any  sign  of  fear  in  her.  He  was  bound 
now  to  fight  without  compunction. 

"It  would,  naturally,  coupled  with  other  circum- 
stances, raise  a  very  ugly  suspicion  against  you." 

"What  other  circumstances?  " 

"Won't  you  render  it  unnecessary  for  me  to  mention 
them?  " 

"How?  " 

"By  letting  me  be  no  longer  out  of  favour  with  you," 
he  pleaded. 

"I  prefer  to  hear  the  other  circumstances. "  She  was 
hatefully  cold  and  contemptuous,  he  told  himself;  wish- 
ing almost  that  he  had  not  come  on  this  errand  which 
promised  him  as  little  satisfaction  as  honour. 

"You  were  in  that  little  room  with  Martindale," 
he  said,  with  an  effort  to  save  the  situation.  "You 
were  seen  to  come  out  of  it  not  long  before  his  death 
was  discovered. " 

"Seen?    By  whom?  " 


THE  MAN  WHO  GUESSED  61 

"By  me,  for  one." 

"Ah!  "  There  was  infinite  significance  in  the  ex- 
clamation. 

"He  was  known  to  be  an  admirer  of  yours." 

"Do  I  kill  my  admirers?  "  She  rose.  "You  are 
giving  me  a  terrible,  a  really  mediaeval  character, 
Mr.  Play  ford.  I  wonder  you  trusted  yourself  here 
alone.  But  perhaps  you  left  word  with  the  police 
before  you  ventured  to  knock  at  the  door.  Is  there 
anything  more  you  have  to  say  to  me?  It  is  getting 
late." 

She  had  beaten  him  at  every  point,  turned  every 
lunge  he  had  thought  to  make  with  deadly  effect.  The 
sting  of  her  sarcasm  made  him  furious;  as  furious  as 
a  man  of  his  self-contained  temperament  could  ever 
show  himself  to  be. 

He  could  hardly  prolong  the  interview  now,  after 
her  unmistakable  hint;  and  if  he  did,  it  must  be  with 
little  hope  of  gaining  his  point.  She  meant  fighting, 
if  it  were  forced  upon  her,  and,  so  far,  her  defence  had 
been  perfect. 

"Then  do  I  understand  you  to  deny,  Countess,  that 
the  little  dagger  is  yours?  "  he  asked  bluntly,  with  an 
expression  of  rankling  defeat  on  his  face. 

"I  know  nothing  of  it,"  she  answered,  with  con- 
temptuous indifference;  "  and  if  I  did,  I  should  scarcely 
be  inclined,  after  your  somewhat  objectionable  proposal, 
to  discuss  the  matter  with  you. " 

As  she  made  a  move  towards  the  bell,  he  put  forth 
a  restraining  hand.  "  Then  you  reject  me  and  my  sug- 
gestion, Countess,"  he  demanded  sullenly.  "It  is  your 
final  answer?  " 

"My  final  answer,"  she  assured  him.     "I  am  only 


62  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

sorry  that  you  should  have  been  so  ill-advised  as  to 
invite  it."  And  she  rang  the  bell. 

"Very  well,"  he  returned  darkly.  "Time  will  show 
which  of  us  has  been  the  more  ill-advised." 

She  had  turned  her  back  upon  him,  and  so,  without 
any  leave-taking,  he  went  away. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    MAN    BEHIND 

are  earlier  than  I  expected,  Geoffrey. " 
Gastineau,  as  he  spoke,  laid  down  the  book  he 
was  reading  and  stretched  out  his  hand  to  Herriard 
with  a  smile.     "Was  the  dinner  worth  going  to — apart 
from  business?  " 

"Oh,  yes;  it  wasn't  bad."  Herriard  brought  up  a 
chair  and  sat  down  with  a  yawn. 

"Tell  me  all  about  it." 

"  Not  much  to  tell  that  would  amuse  you,  I  'm  afraid. 
The  usual  assemblage  of  self-seekers;  I  myself  being  no 
exception. " 

"Yes,"  Gastineau  agreed,  with  a  little  cynical  laugh 
that  seemed  characteristic  of  the  man.  "It  is  inevi- 
table, as  the  world  goes  to-day.  All  tradesmen,  ad- 
vertising their  wares,  only  in  our  plane  of  life  they 
happen  to  be  intellectual  goods  we  want  to  dispose  of. 
There  is  not  much  point  in  being  clever,  Geof,  unless 
we  bring  samples  of  our  brains  into  market  and  make 
the  world  think  the  bulk  is  equal  in  quality  all  through. " 

"In  some,  perhaps  rare,  cases  it  is,"  Herriard  ob- 
served. "Yours,  my  dear  friend,  for  instance." 

Gastineau  shook  his  head  with  a  meaning  smile. 
"You  did  n't  know  much  of  me  in  my  living  days.  If 
they  were  not  over  I  would  not  tell  you  what  a  humbug 
I  was.  Oh,  yes,"  he  replied  to  the  other's  gesture  of 
protest;  "I  had  a  certain  amount  of  brains,  more  than 

63 


64  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

most  people,  if  you  like;  and  that  is  not  saying  much. 
But  let  me  assure  you,  my  dear  Geof,  that  their  prin- 
cipal employment  when  I  was  fighting  the  world,  was 
in  minimizing  my  defects  and  exaggerating  my  cleverness; 
in  short,  working  with  all  my  might  to  make  the  world 
take  me  for  a  wonderfully  clever  genius,  and  to  ascribe 
to  abnormal  brain-power  what  was  really  due  to  care- 
fully directed  push  and  discriminating  powers  of  show- 
ing off. " 

"It  is  difficult  to  believe,"  Herriard  returned  with 
mock  gravity,  "in  face  of  the  astounding  modesty  with 
which  you  tell  it." 

"Ah!  "  Gastineau  sighed  wearily,  with  a  strong 
man's  check  on  despair.  "It  is  all  over  now.  No 
more  use  in  keeping  on  the  mask:  I  can  throw  it  off, 
and  be  comfortable.  Well,  go  on  about  the  dinner. 
The  usual  dozen  and  a  half  of  snobs  and  fools,  brave 
women  and  fair  men,  eh?  " 

"The  majority  certainly  answered  your  description. 
Lord  and  Lady  Greystoke  were  there;  he  looking  some- 
thing between  a  professional  conjurer  and  an  Italian 
waiter,  she  like  a  faded  doll  left  too  long  in  the  toy-shop 
window  and  touched  up  for  sale  with  a  dab  of  vermilion 
on  each  cheek. " 

"Ah,  yes.  I  remember  her  years  ago.  She  always 
had  that  etiolated  look." 

"I  wonder  how  Greystoke,  with  his  taste  for  southern 
colouring,  came  to  marry  her.  He  talked  Italy  all 
dinner  and  was  hovering  about  Sicily  when  I  left." 

"She  had  eight  thousand  a  year,"  Gastineau  ex- 
plained, "the  depth  of  the  gold  at  her  bankers  com- 
pensated for  the  pale  straw  of  her  colouring.  Whom 
did  you  take  in?  " 


THE  MAN  BEHIND  65 

"Mrs.  Roderick  Capel,  a  doll  of  another  description." 

"Yes,  of  the  mechanical  and  talking  variety."  Gas- 
tineau  laughed.  "At  least,  she  chattered." 

"About  herself  the  whole  time;  with  a  perfect  genius 
for  making  a  long  sermon  from  an  unpromising  text 
which  must  have  stirred  the  admiration  of  the  Dean  of 
Stanborough  who  was  her  other  neighbour. " 

"Ah,  she  has  caught  the  disease  egoitis  in  a  virulent 
form  from  her  husband  who  was  once  a  commercial 
traveller,"  Gastineau  commented.  "He  used  to  travel 
in  millinery:  he  now  travels  in  Roderick  Capel,  Es- 
quire, M.P.  etc.,  etc.,  and  with  the  same  push  that  gave 
him  his  first  hundred  pounds.  I  know  the  fellow;  won 
a  big  case  for  him  about  ten  years  ago.  He  was  so 
irrepressibly  offensive  that  I  nearly  threw  the  brief 
at  his  head.  The  only  man  I  felt  I  could  never  snub. 
Who  else?  " 

"Let  me  see.     Oh,  the  Tayntons. " 

"Don't  know  them." 

"Negligible  quantities,  except  so  far  as  the  commisa- 
riat  is  concerned.  Lady  Mary,  a  greedy  monosyllabic 
nonentity,  and  he  a  ventriloquist's  puppet,  wooden,  and 
as  symmetrical  as  a  wax-work  with  a  movable  lower 
jaw  that  looks  as  though  it  were  worked  by  a  string." 

"How  ready  people  are  to  waste  their  hospitality  on 
titled  lay  figures,"  Gastineau  observed  contemptuously. 

"Then,"  Herriard  continued,  "there  was  Briscoe,  the 
new  member  for  Wroxby,  very  pleased  with  himself; 
a  wig-block  of  a  Guardsman  invited  probably  for  table- 
dressing  purposes;  and  a  German  doctor." 

"Variety,    at   least."     Gastineau   lay   back   with    a 
smile,  watching  Herriard  with  half-closed  eyes.     "What 
was  the  German  doctor  doing  there?  " 
5 


66  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"Come  over  here  for  some  big  operation,  I  heard." 

"Ah!    What  is  his  name?  " 

"I  did  not  catch  it." 

"Ah!"  Gastineau's  eyes  contracted  curiously.  "He 
did  not  interest  you?  " 

"Not  particularly.  Although  he  was  probably  the 
most  interesting  person  there.  But  he  was  not  near 
me;  I  had,  when  the  ladies  went,  to  endure  the  banal 
egoism  of  my  fellow  M.P. " 

"The  social  tax  levied  by  stupidity  on  intellect." 
Gastineau  roused  himself  again.  "Ah,  my  dear  Geof- 
frey, we  must  not  be  impatient  with  fools  and  bores. 
If  every  one  were  clever  and  interesting  we  should  be 
lost  in  the  crowd.  Now;  the  Rullington  case.  Is  the 
day  fixed?  " 

"It  is  only  five  down  the  list,"  Herriard  answered, 
taking  some  memoranda  from  his  pocket.  "One  case 
is  a  big  one,  but  Dancer  tells  me  there  is  a  great  pos- 
sibility of  its  being  settled.  So  Rullington  may  come 
on  at  any  time. " 

"You  found  my  notes  for  your  speech  clear,  eh?  " 

"Quite,  thank  you.  I  ought  to  do  something  there. 
I  only  wish  I  could  do  justice  to  your  ideas." 

Gastineau  seemed  rather  darkly  preoccupied.  "Oh, 
my  dear  fellow,"  he  replied,  almost  mechanically, 
"you  '11  do  me  and  yourself  justice  enough  if  only  you 
make  up  your  mind  to  it.  Confidence,  confidence  is 
the  nine  points  of  pleading. " 

"And  the  tenth?  "     Herriard  laughed. 

"Is  composed  of  equal  parts  of  law  and  luck.  You 
ought  to  make  a  big  hit  here,  Geof.  It 's  a  fighting 
case,  if  ever  there  was  one;  the  sort  of  case  where, 
even  with  losing  it  a  foregone  conclusion,  a  man  who 


THE  MAN  BEHIND  67 

can  seize  the  chance  is  sure  to  send  up  his  reputa- 
tion. " 

"  I  'm  afraid  of  Lady  Rullington. " 

"Never  mind  her,  as  long  as  you  are  not  afraid  of 
yourself. " 

"She  may  break  down  under  Maxwell's  cross-exam- 
ination. " 

"Maxwell's  line  of  comity  will  naturally  be  to  bully 
her  into  damaging  admissions;  so  much  the  better  for 
you.  A  better  man  for  our  purpose  could  not  lead 
against  you.  You  can  have  the  chivalrous  stop  out 
all  along,  and  make  capital  out  of  his  treatment  of  your 
witness.  Do  everything  to  get  the  sympathy,  at  least 
of  the  public,  with  you,  and  fight,  fight,  fight;  then, 
whatever  the  result,  you,  Geoffrey  Herriard,  will  score 
heavily. " 

"Thanks  to  you." 

"Oh,  you  know  I  am  only  too  grateful  to  find  a 
means  of  utilizing  what  must  otherwise  now  be  a  buried 
talent.  By  the  way,  talking  of  causes  celebres,  what  is 
the  latest  about  the  Vaux  House  affair." 

"I  have  heard  of  no  further  development." 

"Of  course  every  one  is  talking  about  it?  " 

"It  is  a  perfect  conversational  windfall." 

"I  hope,  for  your  sake,  my  dear  boy,  the  Rullington 
case  will  not  come  on  till  the  Lancashire  has  talked 
itself  out. " 

Herriard  laughed.  "It  promises  to  do  so,  unless  it 
gets  a  second  wind  from  some  sensational  development." 

Gastineau  shook  his  head.  "  I  don't  see  much  chance 
of  that. " 

"No,"  Herriard  agreed.  "Only  the  finding  of  the 
owner  of  the  discovered  weapon. " 


68  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"Have  you  heard  any  rumour  of  that?  "  the  ques- 
tion came  sharply. 

"Oh,  nothing  tangible,"  Herriard  answered.  "Of 
course,  everybody  thinks  it  necessary  and  smart  to  have 
a  theory." 

"And  names  are  mentioned?  " 

"Oh,  yes.  Half  the  smart  women  in  town  are  pointed 
at,  many  of  whom  were  not  even  at  the  ball. " 

Gastineau  laughed  confidently.  "Then  there  is  safety 
in  numbers — for  the  real  culprit.  Our  old  friend,  no 
doubt,  the  spretce  injuria  formce  for  motive.  Well,  let 
us  hope  two  things,  one  that  for  the  lady's  sake  it  won't 
come  out  further,  and,  secondly,  if  it  does,  that  Geoffrey 
Herriard  will  be  retained  for  the  defence. " 

"It  would  be  the  trial  of  the  century." 

"Quite.  Thanks  for  coming  in.  Look  here,  by-the- 
bye, "  Gastineau  reached  to  the  table  that  stood  by  him, 
and  took  up  some  pages  of  manuscript.  "I  have  got 
out  a  peroration  for  your  speech  in  Rullington,  suppos- 
ing it  comes  to  that  stage.  I  got  my  mind  full  of  the 
case,  and  I  can't  help  making  speeches  as  I  lie  here. 
I  think  it  is  rather  taking,  if  I  may  say  so." 

"You  need  not  say  so,  at  any  rate,"  Herriard 
laughed.  "It  would  not  be  your  speech  if  it  was  n't 
effective. " 

"Ah,  well,  it  is  just  the  sort  of  thing  that  used  to  go 
down  with  them.  There  's  your  part. "  He  tossed  the 
papers  towards  Herriard.  "Take  it  and  learn  it.  And 
now,  good-night.  By  the  way,"  he  added,  with  a  half 
yawn  as  Herriard  pressed  his  hand  and  turned  to  go, 
"you  can't  recollect  the  name  of  the  German  medico 
you  met  to-night?  " 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  don't, "  the  other  answered.     "  Why?  " 


THE  MAN  BEHIND  69 

"Oh,  nothing.  A  sick  man's  trivial  curiosity,  a  fail- 
ing I  never  had  time  for  when  I  lived  in  the  busy  world. 
Good-night.  A  demain." 

As  the  door  closed  upon  Herriard,  a  strange  look  of 
suspicion  had  come  over  Gastineau's  face. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  FIERY  ORDEAL 

BEFORE  many  days  had  passed  Countess  Alexia 
had  reason  to  know  that  the  enemy  she  had  made 
and  defied  was  at  work  against  her.  Her  instinctive 
judgment  of  her  unwelcome  admirer's  character  had 
surely  prepared  her  for  this.  And  in  truth  Aubrey 
Playford  was  one  of  those  men  whose  chivalry  is  but 
skin-deep:  it  is  merely  the  veneer  of  their  education 
and  breeding,  the  mask  which  covers  a  malignant  and 
unscrupulous  soul.  The  man  could  be  trusted  to  act 
according  to  the  recognized  codes  of  honour  and  pro- 
priety so  long  as  his  own  interest  and  feelings  were  not 
deeply  touched;  when  passion,  developing  into  a  spirit 
of  vindictiveness,  clashed  with  the  code,  the  mask 
shrivelled  away  and  the  real  man  showed  his  face. 

But  in  this  matter  he  had  worked  quietly,  unostenta- 
tiously, knowing  well  how  small  a  spark  of  scandal  it 
takes  to  kindle  a  great  fire.  It  had  been  enough  for 
him  to  drop  a  few  well-placed  hints,  of  course  under  a 
strict  and  purposely  futile  enjoinment  to  secrecy,  and 
the  mischief  was  done.  The  whispers  spread,  growing 
in  tone  and  freedom,  till  at  last  Countess  Alexia  von 
Rohnburg  began  to  be  openly  pointed  at  in  serious 
connection  with  the  Vaux  House  tragedy.  From  per- 
sonal to  journalistic  accusation  was  but  a  step  and  that 
an  inevitable  one.  The  allusions  to  a  young  lady  of 
great  beauty,  a  well-known  and  popular  figure  in  so- 

70 


THE  FIERY  ORDEAL  71 

ciety,  closely  connected  with  the  diplomatic  world,  were 
markedly  obvious,  and  the  question  was  discussed,  un- 
der a  thinly  veiled  indication  of  identity,  whether,  being 
protected  by  the  law  governing  foreign  embassies,  she 
would  be  amenable  to  justice  were  the  crime  brought 
home  to  her. 

So,  it  seemed,  in  a  few  hours,  Countess  Alexia  was 
rudely  made  aware  of  the  fact  that  she  was  a  marked 
woman.  All  kinds  of  wild  tales  began  to  be  circulated 
as  to  the  motive  for  the  deed;  there  was  a  strong  touch 
of  romance  about  it  that  caught  the  popular  fancy;  the 
affair  was  lifted  by  its  surroundings  from  the  normal 
sordid  groove  of  crime;  yet  the  fact,  the  terrible  fact, 
remained  that  this  girl  was  pointed  at  as  a  murderess. 

Merely  on  suspicion,  it  is  true,  but  suspicion,  the  very 
vaguest,  left  to  roam  unchecked,  gathers  size  and  weight 
till  it  assumes  the  proportions  of  certainty. 

When  the  odious  innuendo  first  came  to  Count  Pros- 
per's  notice  he  went  to  his  sister  in  a  terrible  state  of 
mind.  He  was,  for  a  diplomatist,  a  frank,  straight- 
forward young  fellow,  devoted  to  his  profession,  and 
jealous  of  his  family  honour.  Alexia  assured  him  that 
the  suspicion  was,  if  not  quite  groundless,  absolutely 
untrue. 

"Then  we  must  give  it  the  lie  at  once,"  he  cried, 
with  the  vehemence  of  his  native  blood. 

"Would  it  not  be  wiser  to  treat  it  with  contempt?  " 
she  argued.  "There  is  nothing  tangible  yet  to  answer, 
and  there  is  the  unfortunate  fact  to  face  that  I  was 
in  the  room  with  Captain  Martindale,  and  I  did  lose, 
there  or  somewhere  else,  my  sword  hair-pin." 

He  stared  at  her  blankly  for  some  seconds  before  he 
could  reply.  There  was  a  terrible  suspicion  in  his  mind. 


72  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"Alix,"  he  exclaimed  hoarsely,  "you — you  did  n't  kill 
him?  " 

She  laughed.  "No,  my  dear  Prosper,"  she  answered, 
meeting  his  look  frankly;  "I  give  you  my  word  of 
honour  I  am  as  innocent  of  that  as  yourself.  Although 
the  man  did  behave  somewhat  objectionably." 

Count  Prosper  gave  a  great  sigh  of  relief.  "Thank 
Heaven!  "  he  exclaimed.  "I  thought  fora  moment  it 
might  have  been  true." 

"My  dear  brother,"  she  protested,  "I  admit  your 
right  to  ask  the  question,  but  really  you  might  credit 
me  with  a  less  drastic  but  hardly  less  effective  method 
of  giving  aggressive  admirers  their  quietus.  Poor  Cap- 
tain Martindale!  He  was  very  confident  in  his  powers 
of  fascination,  but  his  vanity  scarcely  deserved  that 
punishment." 

Her  brother  had  become  calmer  to  face  the  situation. 
"Then  do  you  know  anything  about  the  mystery?  " 
he  demanded.  "Can  you  throw  any  light  upon  what 
happened?  It  never  occurred  to  me  to  ask  you  that 
before,  Alix;  but  if  you  know  the  real  culprit,  it  is  no 
time  to  keep  silence  now  that  this  fearful  odium  rests 
on  you.  You  will  tell  me?  " 

She  shook  her  head.  "  I  know  nothing.  I  left  Cap- 
tain Martindale  in  that  little  room  alive  and  well;  ob- 
jectionably so,  I  fear  I  thought  him.  And  that  was  the 
last  I  saw  of  him. " 

"He,  Martindale,  made  love  to  you?  "  Prosper  asked, 
after  a  troubled  pause. 

Alexia  gave  a  shrug.  "He  made  love  to  every 
woman  worth  making  love  to.  Yes,  he  included  me 
in  his  score.  Unfortunately  I  was  obliged  by  an  act 
of  friendship  to  give  him  the  opportunity." 


THE  FIERY  ORDEAL  73 

"Ah,  yes?  " 

"You  know  Hilda  Dainton?  He  was  inclined  to  be- 
have very  badly  to  her.  Some  men  cannot  bear  to 
think  that  there  is  any  happiness  left  in  store  for  their 
cast-off  loves.  Hilda  had  made  a  fool  of  herself,  and 
repented — too  soon,  I  fancy,  and  Captain  Martindale, 
when  he  found  his  power  over  her  slipping  away,  tried  to 
make  use  of  another  hold  over  her;  some  stupid  letters. " 

Prosper  nodded.  "I  see,  Alix.  You  could  help  her 
when  she  could  not  help  herself." 

"I  considered  anything  fair  with  such  a  man,"  Alexia 
replied  simply.  "One  must  fight  unscrupulous  deceiv- 
ers with  their  own  weapons.  The  man  made  love  to 
me  and  there  was  my  opportunity.  At  the  price  of  a 
kiss  I  got  Hilda's  letters  back  for  her,  and  in  return 
presented  Captain  Martindale  with  my  opinion  of  his 
conduct.  That  was  all." 

"I  wish  it  were  all,  Alix,"  her  brother  said  gravely. 
"At  present  it  looks  as  though  we  were  at  the  beginning 
of  an  ugly  scandal ;  none  the  less  ugly  that  it  is  untrue.  *' 

"I  am  sorry,  Prosper,"  Alexia  replied.  "But  what 
can  I  do?  I  cannot  marry  a  man  I  detest  even  to  avoid 
the  most  hideous  of  scandals. " 

Her  brother  started.     "  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"Simply,"  she  answered  with  a  shrug,  "that  we  owe 
this  to  Mr.  Aubrey  Playford." 

"That  fellow?    Ah,  yes;  you  forbade  him  the  house. " 

"It  was  necessary,"  Alexia  said  coldly.  "When 
people  forget  themselves,  they  can  scarcely  complain 
if  the  rest  of  the  world  shows  a  disposition  to  consign 
them  to  oblivion.  But  he  came  here  the  other  day 
and  confirmed  my  opinion  of  him  by  giving  me  my 
choice  between  this  scandal  and  himself." 


74  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

Prosper  began  to  pace  the  room  impatiently.  "It 
is  unfortunate,  Alix,"  he  remarked  somewhat  queru- 
lously, "that  you  seem  fated  to  fascinate  the  wrong 
men. " 

"It  carries  a  sufficient  punishment  with  it,  my  dear 
Prosper,"  she  returned.  "You  need  not  add  your 
reproaches. " 

The  veering  of  scandal's  vane  had  afforded  consid- 
erable relief  to  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Lancashire. 
His  Grace  found  that  he  could  walk  the  streets  once 
more  and  enter  his  clubs  without  the  inconvenience  of 
feeling  himself  a  marked  man;  and  the  Duchess,  resum- 
ing her  social  activities,  rejoiced  in  discussing  the  affair 
almost  from  an  outsider's  standpoint. 

Dormer  Greetland  was  disposed  to  be  very  jocular  on 
the  subject. 

"The  poor  Duke,"  he  said,  "is  going  about  like  a 
convict  on  ticket-of-leave.  He  has  been  serving  his 
time  with  the  Duchess,  and  a  very  uncomfortable  time 
it  has  evidently  been.  They  say  she  has  taken  the 
unique  opportunity  of  wigging  the  poor  man  for  every 
act  of  his  somewhat  monotonous  career.  According  to 
her  he  has  never  done  anything  right  in  all  his  life, 
except  marrying  her,  and  even  there  she  has  never 
forgiven  him  for  not  being  a  more  interesting  bride- 
groom. The  wretched  Duke,  who  can't  help  his  per- 
sonality, was  brought  up  to  rely  upon  his  strawberry 
leaves,  and  in  the  faith  of  the  gospel  that  a  Duke  need 
not  bother  about  intellect  or  even  appearance.  For 
the  last  ten  years  he  has  been  enduring  the  process  of 
having  all  that  nonsense  shaken  out  of  him,  and  the 
Duchess  can  put  plenty  of  vim  into  her  shaking.  Yes; 


THE  FIERY  ORDEAL  75 

this  affair  has  afforded  an  excellent  opportunity  for 
summing  up  the  evidence  against  him,  and  he  has  been 
found  guilty  on  every  count  of  the  indictment.  He 
has  had  a  pretty  bad  time  of  it.  He  could  only  plead 
his  dukedom,  but  he  could  hardly  expect  that  to  go 
down  with  his  partner  in  it,  who  was  at  once  judge 
and  prosecuting  counsel.  They  say  things  got  so  bad 
that  he  had  to  lock  himself  up  in  his  own  rooms  and 
subsist  on  a  stray  tin  of  biscuits,  a  miscellaneous  assort- 
ment of  tabloids,  and  a  syphon  of  soda-water  flavoured 
with  bay  rum.  The  regimen  has  had  such  a  lowering 
effect  on  his  constitution  that  he  is  more  ducal  than 
ever.  He  is  so  fine-drawn,  what  with  his  troubles  mat- 
rimonial and  commissariat,  that  Percy  Nayland  as  he 
saw  him  go  into  the  Carlton  said  he  looked  like  the 
ghost  of  the  Feudal  System  in  a  frock-coat." 

"And  in  the  meantime,  what  is  going  to  be  done 
about  the  business?  "  some  one  asked. 

"So  far  as  I  can  make  out,"  the  quidnunc  answered, 
"it  is  going  to  be  left  to  develop." 

"Is  Scotland  Yard  going  to  take  it  up?  " 

"I  don't  see  how  they  can." 

"Not  against  Countess  Alexia  von  Rohnburg?  " 

"My  dear  Monty,"  Greetland  returned,  "as  things 
stand,  they  can't  do  it.  They  have  nothing  to  go  upon. 
You  must  remember,  what  the  public  never  will  under- 
stand, that  moral  proof  does  not  necessarily  constitute 
legal  evidence.  Granted  that  this  ornamental  stiletto, 
which  has  been  found,  belonged  to  the  Countess,  also 
that  she  and  Reggie  Martindale  were  together  alone  in 
the  room  not  long  before  the  tragedy  was  discovered, 
it  establishes  a  prima  facie  case  against  her,  but,  so  far, 
nothing  more." 


76  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"Circumstantial  evidence,  surely?  " 

"Yes,  but  with  an  important  link  missing  from  the 
chain.  You  see  a  good  deal  might  have  occurred  be- 
tween the  moment  of  the  Countess  Alexia's  leaving  the 
room  and  the  finding  of  what  happened.  No,  my  dear 
friends,  it  looks  very  like  what  we  all  think  it,  but 
there  is  an  important  section  of  the  affair  still  covered 
in  mystery. " 

Greetland  had  made  it  his  business  to  work  up  the 
subject;  it  was  his  vocation  to  be  glib  and  authorita- 
tive on  every  likely  topic  of  the  day. 

"The  Countess's  position  is  not  exactly  enviable,"  a 
man  suggested. 

"It  is  utterly  and  entirely  odious,"  Greetland  agreed. 
"One  scarcely  likes  to  believe  the  thing  of  her;  she  is 
such  a  charming  girl.  Yes;  one  is  horribly  sorry  for 
her.  Without  forgetting  the  dictum  de  mortois,  one  may 
hazard  the  opinion  that  poor  Reggie  probably  brought 
the  thing  on  himself  and  got  no  more  than  he  deserved. " 

"H'm!  "  There  was  a  general  pursing  of  lips  as  of 
men  who  felt  constrained  to  keep  silence  when  it  was 
in  their  minds  to  say  much.  Restraint,  however,  was 
not  a  virtue  which  either  character  or  inclination  en- 
couraged Greetland  to  practise.  "There  was  that  af- 
fair of  Annabel  Fancourt,"  he  remarked,  in  a  low  tone, 
as  of  those  who  discuss  the  dead  in  their  coffined 
presence. 

"Behaved  badly  there,  eh?  "  a  man  suggested,  feel- 
ing his  way  carefully  along  the  fascinating  path  of 
scandal  which  leads  directly  away  from  the  above- 
mentioned  dictum. 

Greetland  shook  his  head  with  a  suggestion  of  un- 
utterable condemnation. 


THE  FIERY  ORDEAL  77 

"Ah;  always  understood  so,"  the  other  man  pro- 
ceeded, gaining  boldness  since  no  one  seemed  inclined 
to  protest.  After  all,  it  is  often  quite  as  piquant  to 
discuss  the  sins  of  the  dead  as  of  the  living,  and  actually 
does  less  harm — to  them. 

"Rather  a  bad  lot,"  another  ventured. 

"Always  might  be  calculated  on  to  go  crooked  with 
women,"  the  fourth  gossip  supplemented. 

"They  always  spoilt  him.  Injudicious  blandishment 
has  sent  many  a  good  man  wrong. " 

"Women,"  said  Monty  Vaxton  who  cultivated  a  rep- 
utation as  a  social  philosopher,  "women  can't  resist  a 
gamble  in  love.  That  is  why  the  professional  Philander 
always  has  his  hands,  or  rather  his  arms,  full. " 

"At  any  rate  they  are  optimists  in  the  passion," 
Jack  Bellairs  remarked,  "and  they  think  they  can  suc- 
ceed where  other  women  have  failed;  quite  forgetting 
that  they  are  playing  for  an  elusive  stake,  and  where 
winning  is,  if  possible,  more  disastrous  than  losing." 

"So  you  think,"  said  Hugh  Lufton,  who  understood 
facts  better  than  theories,  turning  to  Greetland,  "that 
Countess  Alexia  was  under  the  influence  of  Martindale's 
fascinations?  " 

Greetland  shrugged.  "It  looks  like  it;  though  no 
one  even  suspected  it.  But  she  is  a  clever  girl. " 

"Scarcely,  if  that  were  the  case,"  Vaxton  objected. 

"My  dear  Monty,"  said  the  drawing-room  sage,  "no 
woman  is  clever  in  love,  although  many  are  perfect 
geniuses  in  the  matter  of  marriage.  When  we  talk 
of  a  clever  woman  we  eliminate  love  from  the  ques- 
tion." 

"This  is  a  strange  aftermath  of — I  suppose — jeal- 
ousy. " 


78  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"Yes;  one  hardly  sees  at  this  stage  what  the  girl  can 
do." 

"Awkward  for  Count  Prosper,"  Lufton  declared. 
"He  is  a  very  good  fellow.  For  all  practical  purposes 
an  Englishman."  Which  was  the  highest  compliment 
the  speaker  felt  he  could  pay  the  young  diplomat;  and 
certainly  the  sincerest. 

"You  remember,"  Lufton  said  to  Bellairs,  "that 
fellow  Paul  Gastineau,  the  K.C.?  " 

"Gastineau?  Rather.  Killed  in  a  railway  accident 
in  Spain.  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say.  Yes. 
He  was  supposed  to  be  a  great  admirer  of  Countess 
Alexia. " 

"Oh,  yes,"  Greetland  replied,  with  the  superiority 
conferred  by  an  acknowledged  omniscience.  "I  don't 
fancy  there  was  much  in  that,  though.  At  any  rate 
on  the  lady's  side." 

"Ah,  no.     He  was  a  deuced  clever  fellow." 

"Gastineau?  I  should  think  so.  He  had  about  the 
biggest  practice  at  the  Common  Law  Bar." 

"Safe  for  the  Woolsack  if  he  had  n't  been  cut  off." 

Lufton  looked  knowingly  doubtful.  "I  don't  know," 
he  replied,  with  a  contradictory  head  shake.  "Paul 
Gastineau  was  not  altogether  a  persona  grata,  clever  as 
he  admittedly  was.  There  seemed  always  something 
about  the  fellow  that  put  one  on  one's  guard." 

"Too  clever,  eh?  " 

"  Yes.  One  of  those  men  whom  even  their  own  party 
is  afraid  of.  In  politics  safe  mediocrities  are  preferred 
to  dangerous  geniuses.  And  men  of  the  Gastineau  type 
are  looked  upon  with  particular  suspicion.  They  are 
apt  by  comparison  to  show  up  the  short-comings  of 
our  pet  aristocratic  statesmen.  No;  I  very  much  doubt 


THE  FIERY  ORDEAL  79 

whether  that  Spanish  signalman's  error  really  robbed 
England  of  a  future  Lord  Chancellor. " 

"I  dare  say  not,"  Vaxton  agreed  musingly.  "I  am 
inclined  to  think,  though,  that  this  man  Herriard,  who 
has  made  such  a  hit  in  the  Rullington  case,  will  go 
far.  His  style  is  like,  very  curiously  like,  Gastineau's, 
but  without  that  touch  of  deviltry  the  other  man  often 
exhibited.  Yes;  a  safer  man,  and  a  more  British  per- 
sonality. " 

"Gastineau  was  more  or  less  a  foreigner,  wasn't 
he?  " 

"Half  Italian.  Charlie  Wry  ton  who  devilled  him 
told  me  he  never  quite  felt  at  his  ease  with  the  fellow. 
You  know  Wry  ton?  Big  man  who  got  his  blue  at  Ox- 
ford, and  the  last  man  in  the  world,  one  would  think, 
to  funk;  but  I  really  believe  he  was  afraid,  personally 
afraid,  of  Gastineau,  and  distinctly  relieved  when  he 
was  killed. " 

"The  power  of  mind  over  matter." 

"Rather  the  influence  of  unscrupulousness  on  mere 
animal  courage.  Gastineau's  mind  and  methods  were 
deeper  than  Charlie  could  fathom.  There  is  always  a 
terror  in  the  unknown. " 

"Countess  Alexia  does  not  seem  to  have  been  par- 
ticularly happy  in  her  lovers,"  Bellairs  remarked. 

"No,"  Greetland  replied.  "She  is  rather  a  mystery 
in  that  way.  I  mean,  that  she  was  not  married  long 
ago.  Perhaps  her  unfortunate  experiences  may  account 
for  it.  But  unhappily,  a  woman  like  that  is  bound  to 
attract  the  wrong  sort  of  men  as  well  as  the  right. 
Anyhow,  she  has  been  clever  enough  to  hold  them  at 
bay.  She  could  hardly  have  foreseen  the  Martindale 
development. " 


80  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"Can  any  one,  who  knows  anything  of  her,  really 
believe  she  killed  him?  "  Lufton  asked  incredulously. 

Greetland  did  not  care  to  scotch  a  profitable  scandal. 
"Women  are  unaccountable  creatures,"  he  replied, 
with  a  shrug. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   VAUX  HOUSE    CASE 

THE  Rullington  case  had  come  on,  had  dragged 
its  ugly  length  through  twenty  sensational  col- 
umns of  print,  and  had  ended  with  honours — or,  rather, 
dishonours — easy.  Incidentally,  it  sent  Geoffrey  Her- 
riard  several  rungs  up  the  ladder  of  success.  His 
position  now  was  enviable  and  seemed  assured,  thanks 
to  the  strong,  acute  brain  which  backed  him.  It  was, 
perhaps,  a  cynical  pleasure  to  Gastineau,  lying  helpless, 
to  feel  that,  nevertheless,  he  was  not  entirely  impotent, 
to  strike  vicious  blows  from  behind  his  living  mask;  to 
make  his  personality  still  felt  in  a  world  to  which  it  was 
dead.  The  lust  for  fighting  still  burned  fiercely  within 
him;  he  could  indulge  it,  and  grimly  watch  the  effect 
of  his  tactics,  his  cunning  lunges,  his  deft  parries.  Per- 
haps, too,  there  was  a  certain  joy  in  holding  a  man's 
career  and  reputation  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand.  Her- 
riard  was  an  apt  pupil;  still,  he  was,  after  all,  but  a 
pupil.  The  clear  grasp  of  the  case  or  of  a  situation, 
the  piercing,  unerring  insight  into  the  legal  and  political 
complications,  above  all,  the  gift  of  forecasting  probable 
developments,  all  these  were  not  to  be  acquired:  they 
could  only  be  communicated  from  master  to  pupil  as 
occasion  arose.  Herriard,  with  Gastineau's  guidance 
withdrawn,  would  have  been  left  a  man  of  fluency,  of 
reputation,  but  with  no  administrative  power  behind 
them;  one  who  would  probably  fail  at  a  crisis,  who  at 
6  81 


82  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

the  parting  of  the  ways  would  be  as  likely  to  take  the 
wrong  road  as  the  right.  Each  man  knew  this,  and 
each  wondered  at  times  whether  the  other  knew  it. 
Certainly  Herriard  never  showed  the  slightest  sugges- 
tion that  he  could  get  on  without  his  mentor.  On  the 
contrary,  now  that  his  reputation  at  the  Bar  seemed 
established,  he  was  just  as  assiduous  as  ever  in  paying 
his  evening  visits  to  the  secluded  house  in  Mayfair  for 
instruction  in  the  next  day's  procedure.  And  Gasti- 
neau,  on  his  part,  never  seemed  to  weary  of  taking  his 
friend  at  great  pains  through  the  minutest  convolutions 
and  ramifications  of  his  work.  It  was  like  an  old  chess- 
player instructing  a  prentice  hand  in  the  analysis  of 
openings,  moves,  and  counter-moves,  of  attack  and 
defence. 

But  one  day  a  strange  thing  happened.  At  the  ris- 
ing of  the  Courts  a  knotty  legal  point  which  had  been 
sprung  upon  Herriard  by  the  opening  counsel  remained 
undecided.  Herriard  was  going  to  speak  in  the  House 
that  night,  and  so,  being  rather  nonplussed  by  the  point 
of  law,  and  not  knowing  when  he  might  get  away  from 
the  division,  he  jumped  into  a  hansom  and  drove  off 
to  Mayfair  with  the  intention  of  putting  the  point  to 
Gastineau  while  the  arguments  were  still  fresh  in  his 
mind,  and  so  being  put  up  to  a  telling  reply. 

To  his  surprise,  and  for  the  first  time  during  their 
acquaintance,  Gastineau  ^was  denied  to  him.  The  bolt 
of  the  latch  was  shot,  and  his  key  would  not  turn  it. 
He  rang,  and  Gastineau's  man,  Hencher,  who  opened  the 
door,  said,  with  a  manner  of  significant  insistence,  that 
his  master  could  not  see  Mr.  Herriard  that  afternoon. 

Herriard  stared.  Such  a  reception  was  the  last  thing 
he  would  have  looked  for. 


THE  VAUX  HOUSE  CASE  83 

"Is  anything  the  matter?  "  he  enquired  anxiously. 
"Mr.  Murray  is  not  ill,  not  worse?  " 

Yes;  Hencher  thought,  his  master  was  ill,  at  least 
he  was  in  great  pain.  He  could  not  bring  himself  to 
see  any  one  just  then;  and  hoped,  if  Mr.  Herriard  called, 
he  would  make  allowances  and  forgive  him. 

There  was  no  more  to  be  said.  The  impulse  of 
friendship  and  gratitude  had  at  first  prompted  Herriard 
to  go  up  and  see  whether  he  could  be  of  any  use  or 
comfort  in  alleviating  the  stricken  man's  sufferings,  but 
Hencher  stood  uncompromisingly  in  the  aperture  of 
the  half-opened  door,  and  made  no  suggestion  of  ad- 
mitting him.  So  Herriard,  with  a  sympathetic  message 
for  his  friend,  turned  away,  puzzled  and  a  little  hurt. 
Pain?  It  was  curious.  Since  the  accident  which  crip- 
pled him  he  had  never  heard  Gastineau  complain  of 
pain.  His  state  had  been  one  of  sheer  helplessness  and, 
so  far  as  his  lower  limbs  were  concerned,  of  complete 
insensibility.  Then,  even  if  Gastineau  were  in  pain, 
why  had  he  refused  to  see  the  man  who  obviously  was 
his  only  friend?  He  could  not  understand  it.  Had 
Gastineau's  feelings  changed  towards  him?  He  could 
think  of  no  reason  why  that  should  be.  The  incident 
worried  and  depressed  him  more  than  he  cared  to  own; 
anyhow,  though,  he  would  return  that  night  when  the 
House  was  up,  and  then  doubtless  would  know  the 
reason  of  that  strange  denial. 

When  at  a  late  hour  he  drove  up,  the  lock  which  he 
had  half  expected  to  find  secured  against  him,  yielded 
to  his  key,  and  Gastineau  received  him  with  all  his  usual 
suggestion  of  warmth,  and  with  a  laughing  apology  for 
what  had  happened  in  the  afternoon.  "But  really,  my 
dear  Geof,  I  was  not  fit  to  receive  a  dog,  let  alone  my 


84  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

best  friend,  my  only  friend.  I  can't  forget  that,  you 
know,"  he  added,  with  a  fascinating  touch  of  feeling; 
"and  simply  dreaded  lest  my  pain  might  have  driven 
me  to  an  impatience,  even  with  you,  which  might  have 
cast  a  shadow  between  us." 

Herriard  could  scarcely  feel  aggrieved  after  that. 
Nevertheless  two  circumstances  brought  an  uncomfort- 
able shadow  of  doubt  to  his  mind.  One  was  the  un- 
usual symptoms  of  pain,  of  which  he  had  never  heard 
Gastineau  complain  before;  the  other  was  that,  instead 
of,  as  he  expected,  finding  his  friend  ill  and  exhausted 
from  the  afternoon's  attack,  he  seemed  brighter  and 
less  helpless  than  usual.  Still,  Herriard  told  himself, 
he  knew  little  of  medical  science,  had  no  experience  in 
the  strange  turns  disease  would  take,  and  his  doubts 
therefore  might  be  groundless. 

"Well,  what  news?"  Gastineau  asked. 

"Rather  good  news,"  Herriard  answered.  "I  have 
got  a  provisional  retainer  from  Bowyers  for  a  big  case. " 

"What  is  that?  "  Gastineau  enquired  alertly. 

"  Nothing  less  than  this  Vaux  House  affair.  I  'm  in 
luck.  That  will  be  a  sensational  case,  if  you  like." 

"I  should  think  so,"  Gastineau  replied,  a  peculiar 
gleam  in  his  eyes  contradicting  the  almost  languid  in- 
terest in  his  manner.  "What  is  the  case?  Is  the  Duke 
bringing  an  action?  " 

"The  Duke?  No.  Countess  Alexia  of  Rohnburg  is 
suing  the  Daily  Comet  for  libel. " 

"Ah!  Yes;  I  anticipated  that.  The  position  has 
been  forced  upon  her.  The  innuendoes  were  unmistak- 
able. It  is  an  ugly  position  for  her,  though. " 

"Particularly,  if,  as  Bowyer  assures  me,  she  is  abso- 
lutely innocent  in  the  matter." 


THE  VAUX  HOUSE  CASE  85 

"So?    He  says  that.     And  believes  it?  " 

"Certainly,  from  his  manner.  The  Countess  is  the 
victim,  it  appears,  of  a  suspicion,  coloured,  unfortu- 
nately, by  unlucky  coincidences." 

"H'm!  She  is  bound  to  make  an  effort  to  put  herself 
right,  even  by  challenging  the  Daily  Comet  to  a  legal 
duel,  poor  woman, "  Gastineau  commented  thoughtfully, 
as  he  seeemd  to  weigh  the  Countess's  chances  in  the  pro- 
fessional balance.  "You  are,  of  course,  briefed  for 
her?" 

"Yes;  it  is  a  fine  opportunity  for  us — eh?  " 

"You  could  not  wish  for  a  better.  You  know  the 
Countess?  " 

"I  have  met  her  and  her  brother,  but  don't  know 
much  of  them.  They  seemed  very  much  liked  and 
quite  popular — but,  of  course,  Gastineau,  you  must 
have  known  them.  They  have  been  over  here  a  good 
many  years  now." 

The  grey  eyes  from  the  couch  shot  a  cross-examiner's 
glance  at  Herriard;  then  reassumed  their  former  ex- 
pression of  quietly  alert  interest. 

"Oh,  yes,"  Gastineau  answered,  "I  knew  something 
of  them  in  the  old  days  in  my  earlier  state  of  existence. 
It  all  seems  so  long  ago,  my  former  acquaintances  are 
like  the  figures  in  a  dream.  Yes,"  he  continued  rem- 
iniscently;  "I  recollect  the  Countess,  a  handsome,  fair 
girl  with  a  beautiful  voice,  and  more  character  in  her 
than  one  usually  associates  with  those  of  her  complexion. 
And  the  brother?  Yes;  more  like  an  Englishman  than 
a  foreigner,  with  a  taste  for  sport,  natural  rather  than 
acquired;  a  man  whom  one  would  trust  to  play  the 
game.  Well,  let 's  hope  he  '11  win  it  this  time.  We 
will  do  our  best,  eh,  Geof?  " 


86  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"I  hope  we  shall,"  Herriard  answered  heartily,  add- 
ing, "Your  help  will  be  very  necessary  here." 

"Of  course,  my  dear  boy,  you  shall  have  the  best  I 
can  give  you.  Although  it  strikes  me  you  can  almost 
run  alone  now." 

"Not  I,"  Herriard  protested,  wondering  whether  he 
detected  a  note  of  unwillingness  in  the  other's  speech. 
"Some  cases,  naturally,  are  plain  sailing,  and  I  have 
gained  experience  and  profited  immensely  under  your 
guidance;  but  here,  I  am  sure,  I  should  be  utterly  at 
sea  without  you.  It  will  be  a  terribly  delicate  case  to 
handle,  and  the  slightest  mistake  in  tactics  may  make 
all  the  difference." 

"  No  doubt, "  Gastineau  agreed.  "  Yet  practically  the 
onus  probandi  will  be  on  the  other  side.  If  the  Countess 
has  nothing  to  fear  from  cross-examination,  you  ought 
not  to  have  a  very  difficult  task  in  getting  a  verdict. 
Always  supposing,  as  I  say,  that  she  is  keeping  nothing 
back." 

"Bowyer  is  positive.  She  has  at  any  rate  convinced 
him.  And  he  is  no  fool." 

"  No,  old  John  Bowyer  can  see  farther  into  a  client's 
mind  than  most  of  his  sort.  Well,  we  shall  see.  Only 
don't  forget,  my  dear  Geof,  that  a  presumably  in- 
nocent woman,  with  as  fair  and  frank  an  appear- 
ance as  this  Countess  Alexia,  can  be  deeper  than  you 
and  I  and  all  the  tribe  of  Bowyers  put  together.  I 
am  thinking,"  he  added  quickly,  "of  your  reputa- 
tion. It  would  be  bad  for  it  if  you  made  a  mistake 
now. " 

"Under  your  auspices  I  don't  think  I  shall.  It  looks 
like  being  the  case  of  the  century.  Fancy  the  Duke 
in  the  box  under  fire  from  Macvee. " 


THE  VAUX  HOUSE  CASE  87 

"The  other  side  have  him?  " 

"So  Bowyer  thought.     The  Duke  will  have  a  bad 

quarter  of  an  hour  on  the  subject  of  the  hushing  up  of 

the  result  of  the  post-mortem." 
"Lucky  for  Blaydon  that  he  is  dead." 
"Yes.     He  has  escaped  his  Nemesis." 
"It  is  the  only  way  to  escape  our  Nemesis,"  Gas- 

tineau  returned  meaningly. 


CHAPTER  IX 

ALEXIA'S  DENIAL 

Q^UDDENLY  it  became  known  that  the  venue  of 
k3  the  sensational  Vaux  House  case  was  to  be  changed 
from  a  civil  to  a  criminal  court.  The  reasons  for  this 
were  obvious.  The  one  meant  a  summary  trial,  the 
other  involved  vexatious  delays  which,  considering  the 
very  odious  position  in  which  Countess  Alexia  was 
placed  by  the  scandal,  were  not  to  be  endured.  Then 
the  alleged  libel  was,  if  unjustified,  of  a  particularly 
cruel  and  damning  character;  and  so  it  was  not  a  ques- 
tion of  damages  but  of  punishment.  Perhaps  the  writ- 
ers who  had  been  so  quick  to  jump  at  conclusions,  and, 
when  seized  upon,  to  elaborate  doubtful  facts  into  flam- 
ingly  sensational  "copy,"  began  to  share  with  the  edi- 
tors who  accepted  them,  certain  misgivings  that  they 
had  asserted  more  than  they  could  prove.  They  had 
been  unfortunately  precipitate;  still  they  must  make  a 
stiff  fight  in  justification,  and  at  the  worst  there  was 
always  a  grand  advertisement  to  be  sure  of. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  the  responsible  editors  of  the 
Daily  Comet  and  the  May  fair  Gazette  were  cited  to  appear 
at  the  Police  Court  to  answer  charges  of  criminal  libel 
at  the  instance  of  Countess  Alexia  von  Rohnburg. 

All  the  quidnuncs  were  there;  all,  that  is,  who  could 
squeeze  into  the  Court.  And  a  society  tattler,  a  pro- 
fessional diner-out,  will  take  as  much  pains  "to  be 

88 


ALEXIA'S  DENIAL  89 

there,"  and  show  himself  as  resourceful  in  expedients 
for  getting  a  good  view  as  will  the  most  enterprising 
of  journalists.  And  as  the  magisterial  examination 
dragged  on,  the  sensation  hunters  had  a  series  of  highly 
enjoyable  field  days. 

The  publication  of  the  libels  having  been  admitted 
and  justification  pleaded,  Countess  Alexia  was  called 
to  give  a  direct  denial  to  the  charges  insinuated  against 
her.  Then  came  what  was  expected  to  be  the  feature 
of  the  case,  her  cross-examination.  The  somewhat  ag- 
gressive methods  of  that  celebrated  legal  bully,  Ambrose 
Macvee,  K.C.,  failed  to  elicit  any  more  damaging  ad- 
mission than  that  she  had  lost  her  hair  ornament  at 
the  ball,  and  that  to  the  best  of  her  belief  the  one  pro- 
duced in  Court  with  which  it  was  practically  certain 
Captain  Martindale  had  been  stabbed  to  death  was  that 
which  had  belonged  to  her.  This  looked  ugly  enough, 
especially  when  coupled  with  the  admitted  fact  that 
she  had  been  alone  with  Captain  Martindale  in  the  little 
room  where  he  was  subsequently  found  dead.  Proof, 
it  is  true,  was  forthcoming  that  the  Countess  had  left 
the  room  a  considerable  time  before  the  tragedy  was 
discovered:  she  had  danced  with  more  than  one  part- 
ner, and  had  betrayed  no  sign  of  confusion  or  excitement. 

"What  nerve  the  woman  must  have!  "  was  the  com- 
ment of  those  who  were  loth  to  let  go  the  sustaining- 
belief  in  her  guilt  to  which  they  were  clinging.  It  was 
quite  thrilling,  and  gave  a  new  fillip  to  the  sensation. 
A  Countess  stabs  her  inconvenient  lover  to  death  in  a 
secluded  corner,  then  returns  to  the  ball-room  and  re- 
sumes her  waltzing  as  though  nothing  had  happened. 
What  a  pity  that  it  was,  so  far,  no  more  than  conjecture. 
However,  merely  in  the  way  of  suggestion,  it  furnished 


90  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

stimulating  head-lines,  somewhat  carefully  worded,  it 
is  true;  the  penalty  of  libel  and  contempt  of  court  being 
very  much  in  the  air  just  then. 

There  was  still,  as  there  always  had  been,  an  impor- 
tant link  wanting  in  the  chain  of  evidence  which  could 
justify  the  charges  against  Countess  Alexia,  the  mystery 
of  that  half  hour  during  which  the  deceased  man  had 
been  left  alone  in  that  room,  for  anything  to  the  con- 
trary that  mortal  eye  had  seen.  Alexia  swore  that  when 
she  left  him  he  was  alive,  she  had  had-  a  disagreement 
with  him  on  a  rather  painful  subject,  the  reputation  of 
a  friend  of  hers,  and  had  parted  with  him  on  bad  terms, 
but  she  had  never  raised  her  hand  against  him.  There 
had  been  no  reason  why  she  should  have  done  so:  when 
she  quitted  the  room  Captain  Martindale  was  as  much 
alive  as  any  one  in  that  Court. 

Of  course  she  would  swear  that,  the  quidnuncs  de- 
clared, unless  she  wished  to  brand  herself  a  murderess; 
she  had  come  into  Court  to  swear  to  her  innocence; 
nothing  less  was  to  be  expected.  But  it  all  looked  very 
queer,  very  ugly:  at  any  moment,  it  was  thought,  she 
might  break  down  in  her  evidence,  and  the  case  be 
brought  to  a  sudden  and  dramatic  close. 

But  Alexia  never  faltered,  and  then  the  disappointed 
folk  attributed  this  to  her  tremendous  nerve-power. 
The  woman  who  could  kill  one  lover  and  then  go  and 
dance  with  another  was  not  the  sort  of  person  to  break 
down  in  the  witness-box.  It  was  not  to  be  expected, 
even  under  Macvee's  searching  and  tricky  cross-exam- 
ination; it  simply  emphasized  her  character,  and  con- 
sequently her  guilt.  So  much  for  the  fashionable 
Ghouls;  the  smart  thirsters  for  blood. 

But  there  was  another  party,  smaller  and  less  noisily 


ALEXIA'S  DENIAL  91 

insistent,  who  believed  in  Alexia;  who  looked  upon  her 
as  a  high-spirited  woman  shamefully  maligned  and  ac- 
cused, the  victim  as  much  of  a  terrible  chain  of  coinci- 
dence as  of  a  hateful  lust  for  scandal. 

In  his  defence  of  the  Countess,  Herriard  had,  as  both 
he  and  Gastineau  anticipated,  a  trying  task.  It  re- 
quired the  greatest  delicacy  and  tact  during  the  some- 
what drastic  cross-examination  of  his  client,  to  know 
just  when  to  interfere  and  how  far  to  protest.  In  this 
Gastineau's  advice  was  golden;  he  seemed  to  have  the 
faculty  of  anticipating  everything  that  would  happen; 
not  merely  the  line  the  cross-examination  would  take, 
but  even  the  very  wording  of  the  questions  which  the 
rough-tongued  Macvee  would  ask.  So  Herriard 's  cham- 
pionship of  his  client  was,  at  least  on  the  human  side  of 
the  case,  successful  to  admiration,  notwithstanding  that 
sympathy  was  largely  against  him.  The  craving  for 
scandal  and  for  the  downfall  of  a  fair  woman  is  a  morbid 
growth  which  will  eat  away  the  innate  sense  of  chivalry. 
Fair  play  is,  paradoxically,  often  a  sad  spoil-sport:  we 
do  not  always  want  the  best  man  to  win,  and  right  is 
usually  terribly  uninteresting  compared  with  wrong.  So 
there  is  much  satisfaction  in  seeing  wrong  established 
that  the  spectators  may  gloat  over  its  punishment. 
Still,  Geoffrey  Herriard's  advocacy,  plucky  yet  tactful, 
was  bound  to  extort  approval  even  from  those  who  were 
longing  to  see  him  trip;  it  had  the  unbounded  praise  of 
the  Countess's  sympathizers  and,  what  he  felt  he  valued 
still  more,  the  ardent  gratitude  of  Alexia  herself.  Alexia 
was,  almost  literally,  fighting  for  her  life;  this  hideous 
.chance  threatened  her  with,  at  least,  social  annihilation, 
and  the  very  desperation  of  the  fight  accentuated  her 
dependence  on  her  defender.  Those  were  terrible  days 


92  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

to  her,  when  she  was  a  marked  woman,  the  gazing-stock 
for  every  vulgar  quidnunc ;  branded  already  by  the  prej- 
udice of  the  sensation-mongers  as,  at  least,  a  venial 
murderess.  The  words  and  messages  of  sympathy  she 
constantly  received  scarcely  sustained  her  through  the 
ordeal. 

The  Duke  of  Lancashire  also  was  having  a  very  un- 
comfortable time  of  it.  The  suppression  of  the  result 
of  Dr.  Blaydon's  post-mortem  examination  was  an  awk- 
ward point  for  him  to  meet.  He  was  closely  questioned 
on  the  incident,  and  it  is  to  be  feared  that  the  ducal  con- 
science went  to  bed  that  night  with  the  weight  of  a  cer- 
tain ugly  sin  called  perjury  upon  it.  For  though  his 
Grace  was  fain  to  admit  that  he  had  given  the  obsequious 
medico  a  substantial  cheque  to  write  a  certificate  of  nat- 
ural death  so  that  the  fuss  of  an  inquest  might  be 
avoided,  he  yet  stoutly  denied  all  knowledge  of  the 
wound,  the  pin-prick  which  had  just  reached  that  false 
heart,  and  stopped  its  mechanism.  Denial  here  was 
safe,  since  the  only  other  person  who  had  absolute  knowl- 
edge of  the  transaction,  namely  the  doctor  himself,  had 
been  summoned  to  another  Bar  where  perjury  is  futile. 

Still,  although  he  stuck  to  his  repudiation  of  the  sug- 
gestion— since  its  admission  would  have  had  serious  con- 
sequences, even  for  a  Duke — his  dignity  was  badly  bat- 
tered about  during  that  searching  hour.  He  rather 
attempted  to  take  the  line  that  he  was  too  big  a  person- 
age to  be  expected  to  trouble  himself  about  such  un- 
pleasant trifles  as  the  mysterious  death  of  a  guest  under 
his  roof:  he  was  accustomed  to  leave  all  these  dismal, 
disagreeable  details  to  his  people  who  would  naturally 
understand  better  than  he  how  to  deal  with  them.  This 
is  the  line  for  an  aristocratic  witness  to  take  when  he 


ALEXIA'S  DENIAL  93 

is  to  be  the  joy  of  the  opposing  counsel  and  the  despair 
of  his  own.  The  work  of  cutting  away  the  fringe  of 
pomp  and  artificial  grandeur,  and  holding  up  the  poor 
man  inside  them  as  a  wretched  specimen  of  weak-minded 
humanity,  is  easy  and  paying. 

The  harried  Duke,  stripped  for  the  hour,  of  his  fine 
feathers,  made  to  stand  out  in  a  dingy,  uncompromising 
court,  and  show  what  manner  of  man  he  really  was, 
cut  a  sorry  figure.  Counsel  poked  fun  at  his  pomposity, 
his  affectation  of  high  and  mighty  indifference;  there 
was  much  laughter  in  court,  and  the  whole  deplorable 
business  was  given  verbatim  (parentheses  and  all)  in 
the  papers. 

The  case,  when  it  at  last  reached  the  committal  stage, 
was  left  hanging  in  an  evenly  balanced  position,  and 
public  opinion  was  divided,  although  not  quite  so  evenly, 
as  to  the  merits  of  the  issue. 


CHAPTER  X 

A   SENSATIONAL   APPEARANCE 

ONE  night,  during  the  interval  which  fell  between 
the  magisterial  proceedings  and  the  trial  proper, 
when  the  judgment  of  the  law  was  yet  suspended,  while 
that  of  public  opinion  was  clamorously  divided,  Herriard 
came  hurrying  to  the  house  in  Mayfair  with  a  startling 
piece  of  news. 

It  was  no  less  than  the  unexpected  acquisition  of 
evidence  which  seemed  as  though  it  must  at  a  stroke 
establish  Countess  Alexia's  innocence  of  the  death  of 
Captain  Martindale. 

"A  man  has  suddenly  appeared,"  Herriard  related, 
"turned  up  to-day  at  Bowj^er's  office,  who  declares  that 
at  about  12.30  on  the  night  in  question  he  was  walking 
down  Verney  Street,  and  as  he  passed  under  the  wall 
of  Vaux  House  he  stopped  at  the  west  gates  to  listen 
to  the  music  which,  with  the  windows  open,  could  be 
plainly  heard.  That,  as  he  waited  there,  his  attention 
was  attracted  by  the  sight  of  a  man,  evidently  one  of 
the  guests,  who  came  out  upon  a  low  balcony,  and, 
having  looked  about  as  though  to  make  sure  he  was  not 
observed,  climbed  over  the  railing  and  jumped  down 
into  the  garden.  Campion  says  he  then  lost  sight  of 
the  man  for  a  few  minutes,  but  as  he  stayed  on  there 
thinking  little  of  the  matter,  the  man  suddenly  reap- 
peared, hurried  past  the  gate  and  came  out  by  the  wall 
door,  and  then  made  off  quickly  towards  Piccadilly. 

94 


A  SENSATIONAL  APPEARANCE  95 

Acting  upon  that  evidence  young  Bowyer  immediately 
set  off  with  Campion  to  Vaux  House.  The  fellow  de- 
scribed exactly  where  he  had  stood  and  pointed  out  the 
window  through  which  the  man  appeared.  It  was 

"Of  course,"  Gastineau  interrupted,  with  his  enig- 
matic smile,  "the  very  window  of  the  room  in  which 
Martindale  was  found  dead. " 

"Exactly.  What  do  you  think  of  that,  my  dear 
friend?  " 

He  was  looking  eagerly  at  Gastineau  for  evidence  of 
his  story's  effect;  but  from  the  depths  of  those  inscru- 
table eyes  he  could  draw  no  certain  conclusion.  There 
had  been  the  alert,  piercing  glitter  fastened  on  him  as 
he  told  the  news,  but,  beyond  a  certain  almost  fierce 
interest  and  enquiry,  nothing  was  betrayed. 

"A  grand  piece  of  evidence,"  Gastineau  now  answered 
quietly.  "Almost  too  good,  too  conclusive,  to  be 
true. " 

"The  man  is  positive,"  Herriard  urged. 

Gastineau  nodded,  as  accepting  the  statement  for  what 
it  was  worth. 

"  Why, "  he  asked,  "  has  he  not  come  forward  before?  " 

"He  has  been  abroad,  in  South  America,"  Herriard 
explained,  "and  returned  only  a  few  days  ago.  The 
possible  connection  of  what  he  saw  with  Martindale's 
death  occurred  to  him  last  night  only,  and  he  went 
round  to  Bowyer's  the  first  thing  this  morning. " 

"Ah!  "  Gastineau's  lips  were  curled  in  a  cynically 
incredulous  smile.  "  What  is  the  position  in  life  of  this 
Mr.  Campion?  " 

"Oh,  he  is  a  respectable  fellow  enough,"  Herriard 
answered,  a  little  dampened  and  set  back  by  the  other's 
questioning  attitude.  ''A  clerk.  I  should  say  a  man 


96  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

of  the  middle  class,  ready  to  turn  his  hand  to  anything 
decent. " 

Gastineau's  smile  broadened.     "Including  perjury?  " 

"My  dear  Gastineau,"  Herriard  protested,  "I  don't 
think  he  is  the  man  for  that.  I  have  just  seen  him  at 
my  chambers,  and  did  my  best  to  test  his  story.  He 
seemed  straightforward  enough. " 

"Let  7s  hope  so,"  Gastineau  returned  dryly.  "So  he 
went  out  to  South  America.  To  better  his  fortunes, 
presumably.  Has  he  done  so?  " 

"I  don't  fancy  he  has,"  Herriard  was  forced  to  admit. 

"You  did  not  question  him  on  that  subject?  " 

"No.  We  were  too  full  of  the  more  important  one 
of  his  evidence." 

Gastineau  gave  a  little  impatient  head-shake.  "My 
dear  Geof,  I  sometimes  think  I  shall  never  teach  you 
to  look  at  a  case  and  a  witness  from  the  other  side's 
point  of  view.  Now,  which  do  you  suppose  Macvee,  or 
any  counsel  with  a  head  on  his  shoulders,  would  go  for 
in  this  case,  the  evidence  or  the  man?  " 

"The  man,  no  doubt,  seeing  that  his  evidence,  as  we 
take  it,  can  scarcely  be  shaken.  It  does  not,  however, 
necessarily  follow  that  poverty  and  perjury  go  together. " 

"There  is  a  certain  bond  of  union  between  them, 
though,  especially  in  a  case  like  this,  where  such  evi- 
dence as  this  fellow  proposes  to  give  would,  if  unshaken, 
clear  the  reputation  of  a  wealthy  woman. " 

"  He  has  asked  for  nothing. " 

"No,"  Gastineau  rejoined  cynically,  "that  will,  in  the 
order  of  things,  come  afterwards.  He  would  at  least 
have  a  strong  claim  on  the  lady's  gratitude.  No,  my 
dear  Geoffrey,  we  must  walk  warily  in  this  new  devel- 
opment, and  not  jump  at  the  conclusion  that  our  case 


A  SENSATIONAL  APPEARANCE  97 

is  already  won.     I  have  seen  too  many  of  these  dramatic 
surprises  not  to  mistrust  them." 

Herriard  laughed,  a  little  uncomfortably.  "You  are 
inclined  to  be  pessimistic,  Gastineau. " 

"Pessimism  is  just  experience's  drag-chain  on  man's 
natural  sanguineness, "  Gastineau  returned  with  his 
knowing  shrug.  "An  habitual  optimist  makes  a  fine 
explorer  but  a  poor  lawyer.  Certainly  the  practice  of 
our  profession  does  not  conduce  to  optimism.  But  here 
I  am  only  counselling  caution  and  warning  you  to  look 
all  round  this  new  evidence. " 

"Old  John  Bowyer  is  long-headed  enough;  he  has 
sifted  it  pretty  finely,  and  relies  upon  it,"  Herriard 
urged,  somewhat  vexed  at  the  douche  of  cold  water 
which  his  friend  seemed  so  unaccountably  inclined  to 
play  upon  the  important  discovery. 

"John  Bowyer  is  shrewd  enough,"  Gastineau  agreed, 
"but  he  is  at  his  wits'  end  as  to  how  he  is  going  to  win 
this  case.  I  wonder,  my  dear  boy,  that  you  have  not 
yet  discovered  how  widely  the  two  branches  of  the  pro- 
fession are  apt  to  differ  in  their  estimates  of  the  value 
of  any  given  piece  of  evidence.  A  solicitor  somehow 
never  seems  to  get  outside  the  law,  beyond  the  purely 
legal  aspect  of  a  question  or  a  deposition:  he  seems  to 
lack  the  counsel's  faculty  of  forecasting  the  effect  upon 
the  judge,  the  jury,  and,  above  all,  on  the  other  side." 

"So  you  think,"  Herriard  suggested,  almost  in  dis- 
gust, "that  we  ought  to  set  no  value  on  this  man's 
evidence?  " 

"I  don't  say  that,  Geof;  but  I  can't  help  seeing  sev- 
eral weak  spots  in  it.     Properly  handled  by  the  other 
side,  and  it  is  the  kind  of  nut  Macvee  loves  to  crack, 
it  might  very  easily  break  down  and  go  for  nothing. " 
7 


98  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"I  should  be  sorry  if  it  did  miss  fire,"  Herriard  said 
gravely.  "It  would  be  a  heavy  blow  for  the  Countess 
Alexia.  She  thinks  her  case  is  won  now;  and,  of  course, 
it  means  everything  to  her." 

A  peculiar  light  shot  through  Gastineau's  eyes,  the 
gleam  in  those  of  a  lazy  beast  of  prey  roused  by  the 
sign  of  a  prowling  rival.  "You  have  seen  the  Countess 
— already?  "  he  enquired,  with  the  suggestion  of  a  sneer. 

"Naturally.  Young  Bowyer  and  I  went  to  Green 
Street  as  soon  as  we  had  satisfied  ourselves  about  the 
depositions. " 

With  Gastineau's  smile  the  sneer  was  more  apparent. 
"A  personal  interest  in  one's  client,"  he  remarked,  "is 
charming,  but  hardly  business-like.  It  is  apt  to  warp 
the  judgment,  my  dear  Geoffrey.  I  fancy  there  is  more 
than  professional  kudos  at  stake  here.  You  want  this 
new  evidence  to  be  conclusive  and  overwhelming,  con- 
sequently you  fancy  it  is  all  you  desire.  I  fear  that, 
for  the  first  time  in  our  partnership,  my  dry  precepts 
and  unprejudiced  advice  will  be  unheeded. " 

"I  don't  know  why  you  should  say  that,"  Herriard 
protested,  flushing  slightly. 

Gastineau  laughed.  "My  dear  fellow,  if  I  could  not 
see  what  is  so  fairly  obvious,  I  should  not  be  of  much 
use  as  your  guide,  philosopher  and  friend.  I  don't 
blame  you.  Countess  Alexia  is,  no  doubt,  a  very  hand- 
some and  fascinating  woman,  and  even  lawyers  have 
hearts,  although  they  don't  often  get  credit  for  them." 

Herriard  laughed,  perhaps  to  cover  his  discomposure. 
It  is  in  the  early  stages  of  affairs  of  the  heart  that  in- 
trusiveness  is  strongly  resented.  "Your  vision  is  keen 
enough,  my  dear  Gastineau;  so  keen  that  it  seems  su- 
perfluous to  eke  it  out  with  imagination. " 


A  SENSATIONAL  APPEARANCE  99 

"  Is  it  imagination?  "  The  question  was  put  sharply, 
searchingly,  and  Herriard  rather  winced  under  it. 

"I'm  afraid  it  is,"  he  answered.  "Nevertheless  it 
might  not  be  a  bad  thing  for  me  if  there  were  to  be 
some  truth  in  it;  don't  you  think  so?  " 

The  inscrutable  light  was  in  Gastineau's  eyes;  an  ex- 
pression which  gave  no  clue  as  to  the  man's  intentions 
or  feelings.  A  very  mask  it  was  to  the  working  of  the 
busy  brain. 

"That  is  a  question  which  I  must  confess  my  utter 
inability  to  answer  off-hand,"  he  replied,  as  the  eyes 
half  closed,  veiling  the  enigmatical  light  within.  "It 
might  be  a  good  thing;  it  might  be  a  very  bad  thing." 

"How  do  you  mean?  " 

"The  case,  the  lady's  character,  is  sub  judice,"  Gas- 
tineau  laughed.  "You  had  better  pause  in  any  step 
you  may  be  contemplating  till  the  verdict  has  been 
given. " 

Herriard  rose.  "My  dear  Gastineau,  I  don't  know 
whether  you  are  joking,  but  surely  you  must  know  that 
Countess  Alexia  is  absolutely  innocent  of  this  monstrous 
charge. " 

Gastineau,  however,  looked  anything  but  convinced. 
He  shook  his  head  half-humourously  albeit  there  was 
no  humour  in  the  sharp  eyes.  "Beware,  my  son,  of 
allowing  your  judgment  to  be  warped  by  personal  con- 
siderations. " 

"Personal  considerations?  "  Herriard  burst  out.  "I 
hope  I  am  not  such  a  fool.  But  I  would  stake  my  rep- 
utation, my  very  existence,  on  the  fact  that  the  Countess" 
had  no  more  to  do  with  Martindale's  death  than  you 
or  I." 

"You  would  most  likely  be  right;  possibly  be  wrong," 


100  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

Gastineau  returned,  in  the  drily  sententious  tone  he 
could  assume  when  direct  argument  seemed  inexpedient. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,"  Herriard  demanded  warmly, 
"that  you  really  believe  her  guilty?  " 

"I  mean  to  say,"  Gastineau  rejoined,  stretching  out 
his  hand  with  a  smile,  "that  I  am  not  going  to  quarrel 
with  you  about  it;  so  good-night." 

Herriard  took  his  hand.  "Gastineau,"  he  said,  al- 
most imploringly,  "do,  for  pity's  sake,  look  at  this  affair 
with  a  more  charitable  eye. " 

"Of  course  I  will,  my  dear  fellow,"  the  other  re- 
sponded, with  an  almost  affectionate  touch  and  tighter 
clasp  of  the  hand.  "Of  course  I  will.  Only  you  must 
remember,  if  I  am  to  be  of  any  service  to  you  in  this 
business,  that  the  charitable  is  not  necessarily  the  legal 
or  the  correct  view  of  the  possibilities  of  the  case. " 

The  manner  in  which  he  spoke  was  so  winning  that 
all  Herriard 's  soreness  left  him.  But  he  judged  it  wise 
to  discuss  the  case  no  further  that  evening.  When, 
after  a  few  words  more,  he  turned  to  go,  Gastineau 
called  him  back. 

"By  the  way,  Geof,  for  we  must  not  let  my  scep- 
ticism burke  this  evidence  altogether,  what  sort  of  a 
man  was  this  that  Campion  saw?  He  described  him?  " 

"A  dark,  thin  man." 

"H'm!    A  trifle  vague.     Anything  more?  " 

"Bowyers  have  the  full  description.  Naturally— 
always  supposing  his  evidence  to  be  genuine — he  would 
have  noticed  him  particularly." 

"  No  doubt, "  Gastineau  agreed,  with  a  recurring  touch 
of  scepticism.  "He  is  sure  he  would  recognize  the  man 
again?  " 

"Oh,  absolutely  confident.     I  heard  him  say  so." 


A  SENSATIONAL  APPEARANCE         101 

"  Well,  it  is  a  comparatively  narrow  circle, "  Gastineau 
remarked,  still  with  the  incredulous  smile.  "The  man 
must,  in  all  probability,  have  been  either  a  guest  or  a 
waiter. " 

"Campion  says  he  looked  like  a  gentleman." 
"Ah!    Then  Bowyer  had  better  get  a  list  of  the  guests 
and  set  about  identifying  him.     Good-night." 


CHAPTER  XI 

HERRIARD    AND   ALEXIA 

A  LESS  keen  observer  than  Gastineau  might  have 
suspected  that  the  position  of  Herriard  and  Coun- 
tess Alexia  was,  at  any  rate  on  Herriard 's  side,  rapidly 
exceeding  that  of  counsel  and  client.  And  it  was,  par- 
ticularly in  a  man  of  Herriard 's  temperament,  scarcely 
to  be  wondered  at.  All  through  the  trying  stages  of 
the  case  he  had  been  brought  into  close  and  more  than 
mere  professional  relations  with  the  von  Rohnburgs, 
while  between  him  and  the  Count  a  friendship,  founded 
on  the  secure  foundation  of  reciprocal  liking,  had  sprung 
up.  Firmly  and  absolutely  convinced  as  Herriard  was 
of  Alexia's  innocence,  so  completely,  indeed,  that  the 
slander  roused  him  to  a  quite  unlawyer-like  state  of 
indignation,  it  came  as  a  shock  to  find  Gastineau  coolly 
arguing  upon  the  supposition  and  accepting  the  fact  that 
she  was  guilty.  Certainly,  he  told  himself,  Gastineau 
does  not  know  her,  has  but  a  vague  recollection  of  her 
over  some  four  or  five  years  back;  he  takes  her  as  a 
mere  pawn  upon  the  legal  chess-board:  he  has  a  cynical 
disbelief  in  women;  it  is  but  to  be  expected  that  he 
should  think  the  worst  of  her;  I  might  have  realized  all 
this,  and  not  been  such  a  fool  as  to  resent  his  suggestion. 
Nevertheless,  the  bare  idea  that  any  one,  even  a  dry, 
quibbling  lawyer,  could  for  a  moment  admit  the  possi- 
bility that  this  woman,  whose  soul  shone  clear  and  true 
from  her  eyes,  whose  every  word  carried  a  conviction 

102 


HERRIARD  AND  ALEXIA  103 

of  honesty,  could  have  done  a  man  to  death  in  secret, 
and  then  have  entrenched  herself  behind  a  rampart  of 
skilfully-woven  lies,  was  to  him  utterly  inconceivable. 
True,  the  deed,  had  she  really  been  guilty  of  it,  would 
naturally  have  been  committed  under  stress  of  great 
provocation.  Captain  Martindale's  character  and  want 
of  principle  where  women  were  concerned  were  well 
known:  no  one  would  have  been  surprised  at  his  finding 
a  reprisal  at  the  hand  of  those  whom,  as  a  chartered 
Philander,  he  had  loved  and  laughed  at.  Natural,  too, 
it  would  have  been,  if  having  been  driven  to  that  fatal 
stroke,  she  should  have  fought  against  discovery  by 
every  means  in  her  power.  For,  putting  aside  the  con- 
sequences of  the  deed,  it  would  have  been  a  fight  for 
her  honour.  No;  it  was  not  the  probabilities  of  the 
case,  considered  generally,  which  weighed  with  Herriard, 
but  his  utter  inability  to  believe  this  thing  of  this  woman. 
And,  as  his  feeling  for  her  almost  insensibly  grew 
warmer,  the  more  preposterous  did  the  notion  appear. 
So  when  Gastineau  mooted  it  in  his  cold-blooded,  cyn- 
ical way,  it  came  as  a  shock,  as  a  suggestion  which  filled 
Herriard  with  abhorrence.  His  whole  soul  recoiled  from 
the  idea,  as  from  a  monstrous  impossibility. 

And  this  conviction  was  confirmed  when,  a  night  or 
two  afterwards,  he  dined  quietly  with  the  Countess  and 
her  brother.  All  through  her  animated  talk,  happier 
now,  in  the  good  news  that  had  come,  he  searched  her 
face  for  a  sign  of  guile,  of  a  reservation  of  the  truth,  of 
an  arriere  pensee:  looked  till  he  was  ashamed  of  himself 
for  being  led  to  doubt;  and  saw  nothing  but  frankness 
and  honesty.  Clever  she  was,  and  possessed  of  wonder- 
ful self-command,  but  it  was  a  cleverness  unmixed  with 
deceit,  the  reverse  of  wisdom,  not  falsehood. 


104  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

Both  Alexia  and  her  brother  were  cheerful  that  night, 
happier  than  they  had  been  since  the  charge  was  first 
levelled.  There  was  a  second  guest,  a  countryman  of 
the  von  Rohnburgs,  Dr.  Hallamar,  the  Austrian  surgeon 
who  had  returned  to  England  on  a  professional  visit.  It 
was  a  pleasant  little  party;  the  four  being  all  completely 
in  accord  and  sympathy.  The  doctor  naturally  felt 
strongly  the  way  in  which  the  Countess  had  been  treated ; 
he  was  a  strong  man,  an  acute  thinker  who  suggested 
rather  than  expressed  the  depth  of  his  opinions. 

After  dinner  the  two  guests  were  left  for  a  few  mo- 
ments alone. 

"Mr.  Herriard,"  the  doctor  said,  with  more  warmth 
than  he  seemed  given  to  show,  "you  are  a  lawyer;  it 
is  your  professional  duty  not  only  to  defend  but  to 
think  the  best  of  your  client,  to  maintain  her  innocence 
against  the  world;  but  now,  tell  me,  not  as  a  lawyer, 
but  as  a  man,  I  will  not  say  an  English  gentleman,  for 
there  the  code  of  honour  guides  and  restricts 'you,  but 
as  a  man  of  brains  and  worldly  knowledge,  you  do  not 
in  your  heart  believe  that  it  is  possible  for  our  hostess 
to  be  guilty  of  this  dastardly  charge?  " 

Herriard  had  little  difficulty  in  responding  to  the 
somewhat  extraordinary  invitation.  "I  should  be 
.willing  to  stake  my  life  on  the  Countess's  absolute 
innocence,"  he  declared  resolutely. 

"I  was  sure  of  it,"  the  other  observed. 

"You,  too,  Doctor,"  Herriard  continued  eagerly, 
"you  are  a  man  who  has  doubtless  seen  much  of  human 
nature  and  its  capabilities  of  deception,  does  your  obser- 
vation tell  you  that  disingenuousness  is  possible  here?  " 

Hallamar  shook  his  head  emphatically.  "Not  for 
one  moment." 


HERRIARD  AND  ALEXIA  105 

"I  am  glad  to  have  your  confirmation  of  my  convic- 
tion," Herriard  replied.  "But  I  would  maintain  it 
against  any  man's  opinion  for  all  that,"  he  added  with 
a  smile. 

The  doctor  merely  acknowledged  his  enthusiasm  with 
a  gesture  as  Count  Prosper  rejoined  them. 

When  they  went  upstairs  the  Count  and  Hallamar 
became  deep  in  a  discussion  in  their  own  language,  and 
Herriard  found  himself  with  Alexia. 

"You  have  a  downright  champion,  Countess,  in  the 
Professor,"  Herriard  said. 

"I  was  hoping,"  she  returned,  "that  I  no  longer 
needed  one. " 

"I  hope  and  believe  so  too,"  he  replied.  Then  added 
in  a  lower  tone,  "  I  shall  be  sorry  though,  to  think  that 
my  office  has  come  to  an  end. " 

For  an  instant  her  eyes  rested  on  his  face,  then  she 
looked  away.  "It  may,  happily,  come  to  an  end  of- 
ficially, since  its  work  will  have  been  accomplished,  but 
it  will  never  be  forgotten." 

The  last  words  were  spoken  low,  with  just  the  sus- 
picion of  a  tremor  in  them.  It  seemed  to  pass  to  Her- 
riard, as  he  responded,  "Ah,  Countess,  how  you  reward 
me!  " 

"Reward  you?    Can  I  ever  do  that?  "  she  said. 

"Indeed  you  can,  far  above  my  deserts,"  he  answered, 
with  the  spell  of  her  voice  and  presence,  of  her  mood 
attuned,  as  it  seemed,  to  his  own,  thrilling  through  him. 
"Although  it  is  unnecessary;  the  fight  in  your  cause  has 
been  its  own  reward. " 

There  was  a  little  pause,  as  though"  the  subject  had 
run  as  far  as  it  might  venture.  Then  Alexia  spoke. 

"Ah,  if  I  dared  believe  that  the  worst  was  over  now!  " 


106  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"I  think  you  may,"  he  replied.  "I  do  not  see  how 
this  new  evidence  can  be  shaken." 

"You  are  not  absolutely  certain?  "  Her  eyes  were 
fixed  on  his  face,  and  he  felt  she  was  reading  him. 

He  thought  of  Gastineau  and  his  almost  scoffing  scep- 
ticism. He  longed  to  feel  able  to  tell  her  that  all  fear  and 
doubt  were  passed,  yet,  with  the  memory  of  his  mentor's 
views,  he  could  not,  and  felt  a  brute  in  consequence. 

"I  believe  it,"  he  answered,  hoping  the  evasion  was 
not  apparent.  "My  own  opinion  is  that  this  man's 
evidence  settles  the  question  so  far  as  you  are  con- 
cerned. " 

"But  you  think  others  may  not  share  it?  "  she  asked 
shrewdly. 

"I  think,"  he  answered,  "that  others,  who  are  in- 
terested, as  half  the  world  is,  in  believing  the  worst, 
may  be  reluctant  to  share  it. " 

Alexia  was  leaning  back,  bitterly  reflective.  "The 
world,  our  world,  is  very  cruel,"  she  said. 

"The  world,"  he  replied,  "craves  for  amusement. 
Left  to  its  own  resources  it  is  a  dull  world,  and  is  con- 
stantly growing  duller.  So  its  amusements  must  ever 
be  increasing  in  pungency.  Strong  contrasts  and  men- 
tal vivisection  are  its  intellectual  pastimes,  the  cant  of 
a  spurious  broad-mindedness  which  affects  hesitation 
in  condemning  vice,  since  there  is  none  who  can  claim 
virtue,  and  at  the  same  time  prejudges  the  maligned 
for  a  like  reason.  Our  modern  Pharisees'  boast  is  not 
that  they  are  virtuous,  but  vicious,  and  they  call  Heaven 
to  witness  that  they  claim  to  be  no  better  than  the  rest 
of  mankind." 

Alexia  was  looking  at  him  searchingly  with  a  touch 
of  disappointment. 


HERRIARD  AND  ALEXIA  107 

"You  are  a  cynic,"  she  said  simply,  yet  with  wistful 
conviction. 

"Not  I,"  he  replied  frankly,  and  at  his  prompt  denial 
her  face  brightened. 

He  hated  himself  for  so  easily  falling  into  the  trick 
of  Gastineau's  pessimistic  speech.  "No:  I  am  a  be- 
liever in  the  honest,  right-thinking  minority,  although 
my  profession  prevents  me  from  shutting  my  eyes  to 
the  mental  attitude  of  the  rest.  On  the  surface,  at  any 
rate,  it  is  a  cruel  world,  Countess,  and  I  am  more  sorry 
than  I  can  express,  to  know  that  you,  of  all  women, 
have  felt  its  hardness,  its  injustice.  But  please  don't 
think  me  a  cynic. " 

The  smile  she  gave  more  than  reassured  him.  "I 
won't,"  she  murmured,  "although  I  began  to  fear  you 
were  one." 

His  voice  was  low  as  hers  as  he  rejoined,  "I  never 
shall  be  now  that  I  have  known  you." 

She  laughed  now.  "If  it  were  not  too  serious  for  a 
joke  I  should  tell  you  to  wait  till  our  case  is  decided." 

"Countess,"  he  protested,  "it  has  long  been  decided 
in  my  mind,  unassailably  decided. " 

"Ah,"  she  said,  "that  was  your  duty.  You  could 
scarcely  do  less  than  believe  in  your  client." 

"I  might,"  he  rejoined,  "have  done  much  less." 

"And  what  convinced  you?  "  she  asked. 

"My  client  herself,"  he  answered. 

Then  again,  just  as  their  hearts  seemed  to  come  near 
to  one  another,  they  drew  away  again.  Perhaps  to  her 
the  time  appeared  not  ripe,  while  on  his  part,  a  chilling 
shadow  seemed  to  intervene  between  him  and  his  love; 
the  figure  of  Gastineau,  the  brain,  whose  mouthpiece 
he  was. 


108  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

His  relations  with  Gastineau  formed,  indeed,  a  con- 
sideration which  had  begun  to  exercise  his  mind  very 
disagreeably,  and  which  he  felt  must  in  honour  make 
him  pause  before  declaring  his  love  for  Alexia.  She 
would  take  him  as  he  took  her,  judging  by  fair  outward 
appearance,  by  the  affinity  of  their  beings,  by — in  short 
— by  that  reciprocal  personal  attraction  which  pro- 
duces love.  On  her  side,  doubtless,  the  foundation  for 
regard,  the  regard  which  he  hoped  and  believed  was 
ripening  into  love,  had  been  admiration.  He  had  been 
in  her  service  skilful,  courageous,  chivalrous;  he  seemed 
to  have  sprung  to  her  side  when  sorely  pressed,  as  her 
champion,  almost  heaven-sent,  and,  apart  from  the  pro- 
fessional relation  in  the  matter,  her  gratitude  and  admi- 
ration were  unbounded.  No  doubt  the  personal  element 
had  much  to  do  with  this.  Chance  might  have  given 
for  her  defence  a  dry,  crabbed  old  lawyer,  a  Macvee, 
dusty,  aggressive  and  uncompromising,  who  would  yet 
have  served  her  well,  at  the  same  time  regarding  her 
merely  as  a  client  rather  more  interesting  than  usual. 
But  Geoffrey  Herriard  was  very  different.  He  was  com- 
paratively a  young  man;  he  had,  if  not  a  handsome, 
at  least  an  interesting  clear-cut  face;  he  was  an  attrac- 
tive personality,  a  rising  politician,  an  already  risen 
member  of  the  Bar.  His  career  was  assured,  and  his 
history  carried  with  it  that  interest  which  successful 
cleverness  can  always  claim.  What  wonder,  then,  that 
Alexia,  almost  a  woman  of  the  world,  at  least  a  femme 
faite,  though  she  might  be,  should  grow  more  and  more 
attracted  by  her  counsel  who  had  quickly  become  her 
friend  as  well  as  her  brother's? 

And  yet,  as  Herriard  kept  telling  himself  all  through 
the  days  and  nights,  he  was  a  lie;  a  living,  pleading, 


HERRIARD  AND  ALEXIA  109 

arguing,  ingratiating  lie.  His  form,  his  voice  were  his 
own,  and  that  was  all.  The  brain  he  took  credit  for 
was  another  man's.  The  telling  speeches,  the  masterly 
conduct  of  the  case,  the  shrewd  arguments,  even  the 
smart  retorts  by  which  he  scored,  were  no  more  his  than 
are  Shakespeare's  lines  the  actor's  who  utters  them. 

So  he  stood  that  day,  a  fraud,  a  living  sham,  a  man 
who  took  credit  for  achievements  which  were  not  his, 
for  work  which  he,  unaided,  could  never  have  brought 
to  a  successful  accomplishment.  And  the  worst  of  his 
position  was,  as  he  now  felt  it,  that  the  excuse  he  might 
make  told  against  him,  was,  in  fact,  the  crux  of  his 
situation.  For  its  avowal,  the  confession  of  the  fraud, 
was  out  of  the  question.  Were  he  not  bound  in  honour 
to  the  friend,  to  whom  he  owed  everything,  not  to  di- 
vulge the  secret;  could  he  for  very  shame  make  it 
known  that  for  years  he  had  been  living  and  thriving 
and  gaining  fame  by  another  man's  brains?  True,  the 
situation  had  been  acquiesced  in  by  the  other  man,  but 
would  that  be  accepted  as  an  excuse  by  the  world  which 
had  hailed  him,  Geoffrey  Herriard,  as  a  supremely  clever 
fellow?  The  world  would  feel  it  had  been  swindled  out 
of  its  applause;  it  would  turn  and  resent  the  cheat. 

Then,  supposing  he  cared  nothing  for  the  world  and 
its  sneers,  that  he  was  prepared  to  brazen  the  matter 
out,  should  it  come  to  light,  to  let  its  success  justify 
the  trick,  how  would  it  be  with  Alexia?  Could  he  ever 
hope  to  rehabilitate  himself  in  her  eyes?  He  told  him- 
self, he  knew  it  with  absolute  conviction,  that  she  was 
as  the  soul  of  honour;  how  could  he  declare  himself  to 
her  as  an  incarnation  of  falsehood?  Sometimes  he  felt 
he  could  wish  that  she  were  guilty  of  this  charge;  it 
would  at  most  have  been  a  venial  crime,  and  it  would 


110  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

bring  them  a  little  nearer  to  an  equality  in  wrong- 
doing. 

Then,  often,  in  the  conflict  of  his  love,  he  would  wish 
that  he  could  break  himself  free  of  Gastineau:  that  he 
could  run  alone  now,  looking  upon  the  past  partnership 
as  a  term  of  mere  pardonable  tutelage.  Then  honour, 
never  driven  out  from  his  false  life,  would  rise  and  re- 
buke him  for  ingratitude.  Still,  he  would  argue,  the 
bond  between  himself  and  Gastineau  could  scarcely  be 
expected  to  run  for  the  term  of  their  lives.  It  would 
have  to  be  determined  sooner  or  later;  and,  after  all, 
the  benefit  derived  from  the  partnership  was  in  some 
degree  mutual.  The  sword  which  Gastineau  had  put 
into  his  hand,  and  the  skill  in  fence  which  he  had  taught 
him,  had  been  greatly  used  to  stab  the  disabled  fencer's 
rivals  and  enemies,  to  prevent  them  from  profiting  by 
the  disappearance  of  their  old  adversary.  In  the  in- 
toxicating whirl  of  success  which  had  hurried  him  on- 
wards and  upwards,  Herriard  had  not  found  pause  to 
realize  the  true,  inevitable  logic  of  his  position.  Love 
was  now  the  Nemesis  which  was  bringing  it  bitterly 
home  to  him. 

And  that  same  night  the  foreshadowing  of  another 
and  totally  unthought-of  contingency  rose  to  disturb 
him.  This  time  it  came  from  his  fellow  guest,  and  in 
this  way. 

The  men  had  bid  the  Countess  good-night,  and  had 
gone  down  to  the  Count's  study  to  smoke  and  chat 
before  separating.  Presently  their  host  began  to  ask 
the  Professor  about  his  work,  and  then  it  was  that  Her- 
riard learned  a  fact  which  gave  him  food  for  thought, 
welcome  or  unwelcome,  he  could  not  for  the  moment 
decide.  He  had  met  Dr.  Hallamar  several  times  already, 


HERRIARD  AND  ALEXIA  111 

had  accepted  without  further  question  the  fact  that  he 
was  one  of  Vienna's  most  distinguished  pathologists, 
and  although  inclined  to  wonder  that  one  so  eminent 
and  naturally  sought  after  at  home  should  spend  so 
much  time  in  England,  had,  from  a  reluctance  to  talk 
"shop,"  which  his  good  breeding  prompted,  spoken 
little  to  the  doctor  of  their  respective  professions.  But 
now  he  was  for  the  first  time  to  be  made  aware  of  Hal- 
lamar's  specialty. 

The  basis  on  which  the  Professor's  fame,  now  Euro- 
pean, rested,  was  the  treatment  of  spinal  disease  and 
lesions,  in  the  practice  of  which  he  had  performed  some 
marvellous  cures.  And  Herriard  had  up  to  that  mo- 
ment never  been  aware  of  this. 

"Severe  spinal  injuries  are  not,  then,  necessarily  in- 
curable? "  he  asked,  waking  up  to  the  knowledge  and 
the  interest  the  subject  held  for  him,  as  he  joined  in 
the  conversation  with  somewhat  remarkable  eagerness. 

"Certainly  not,"  was  the  doctor's  laconic  reply. 

"Even  when  the  patient  has  been  deprived  of  the  use 
of  the  lower  limbs?  " 

Hallamar  gave  a  shrug.  "Some  cases  are  incurable, 
yes.  But  it  has  been  my  privilege  to  cure  many  which 
had  been  pronounced  hopeless. " 

"The  results  of  accidents,  say  railway  accidents?  " 

"Certainly.  It  is  to  railway  accidents  that  very 
many,  if  not  the  majority,  of  these  cases  of  total  loss 
of  power  in  the  lower  limbs  from  shock  are  to  be  at- 
tributed. " 

"And  you  cure  them,  Professor?  " 

Hallamar  bowed,  with  a  little  deprecating  smile.  "  I 
have  the  happiness  to  cure  many." 

"Of   course,    Herriard,"    Count    Prosper   struck   in. 


112  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"That  is  why  the  Professor  is  here.  One  does  not 
travel  a  thousand  miles  to  make  experiments:  one  need 
not  leave  Vienna  for  that,  eh?  But  what  is  fame? 
Here  is  Herriard,  a  great  man  at  the  Bar  and  in  Par- 
liament who  has  never  heard  of  the  wonders  which  Pro- 
fessor Rudolph  Hallamar  performs. " 

"When  one  is  deeply  immersed  in  one's  own  profes- 
sion, one  has  little  opportunity  for  looking  round  at 
the  work  of  other  men  in  other  spheres,"  the  doctor 
observed,  in  polite  excuse.  "I  have  found  that  path- 
ological work  has  little  interest  for  healthy  laymen." 

"Nevertheless,"  Herriard  replied,  with  more  truth 
than  the  two  other  men  gave  him  credit  for,  "your 
work,  now  I  have  heard  of  it,  does  interest  me  exceed- 
ingly." 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE    PROFESSOR  IS   PUZZLED 

IN  spite  of  the  sceptical  attitude  which  Gastineau 
seemed  inclined  to  maintain  towards  it,  the  evi- 
dence of  the  man  Campion,  having  been  closely  sifted 
and  tested,  was  regarded  on  all  hands  as  practically 
conclusive,  and  certain  to  win  the  case  for  the  Countess 
Alexia. 

The  mouthpieces  of  public  opinion,  as  is  usual  in  such 
cases,  hastened  to  hedge,  and  the  vane  of  prejudice 
showed  signs  of  swinging  round.  The  defendants  and 
their  advisers  were  now  concentrating  their  energies 
upon  getting  out  of  an  awkward  position  with  least 
damage  to  their  purses  and  reputations:  and  it  was 
generally  admitted  that  this  new  evidence,  although  it 
went  but  a  little  way  towards  proving  who  was  the 
slayer  of  Captain  Martindale,  must  at  least,  if  unshaken, 
exonerate  the  Countess. 

Still  the  mystery  remained  almost  as  deep  as  ever. 
Who,  every  one  now  began  to  ask,  was  the  mysterious 
man  whom  Campion  saw?  A  scrutiny  among  the  list 
of  the  guests  failed  to  give  any  hopeful  clue,  and  only 
served  to  increase  the  puzzle.  For  there  had  been  a 
great  crowd  at  Vaux  House  that  night.  The  ball  had 
been  one  of  those  entertainments  which  great  hostesses 
give  periodically  to  include  all  who  can  have  any  sort 
of  claim  upon  their  hospitality.  Cards  had  been  sent 
out  to  every  one  of  the  Lancashires'  acquaintance,  social, 
8  113 


114  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

political,  and  casual;  there  had  been  the  usual  crush, 
a  constant  stream  of  incomers  and  outgoers,  and  no 
record  kept  of  those  who  actually  were  present.  How 
could  the  identity  of  one  man  be  discovered?  Campion 
was  confident  that  he  would  recognize  him;  but  where 
was  the  chance  of  bringing  into  review  before  him  the 
hundreds  of  men  who  had  been  included  in  that  big 
social  sweeping-up?  The  dead  man  might  be  supposed 
to  have  had  enemies,  disappointed  rivals  of  the  notorious 
supplanter:  but  that  was  only  vague  conjecture;  noth- 
ing definite  of  any  one  was  known. 

But  one  evening  Herriard  rushed  up  to  the  house  in 
Mayfair  with  a  great  piece  of  news.  To  his  discom- 
fiture Gastineau  was,  for  the  second  time  during  their 
acquaintance,  denied  him.  Hencher  had  the  same  tale 
as  before  to  tell.  Mr.  Murray  had  had  a  very  bad  day; 
had  been  and  still  was  in  great  pain;  the  seizure  would 
surely  go  off  soon,  and  then  he  would  see  Mr.  Herriard, 
but  not  now;  he  was  sure  Mr.  Herriard  would  under- 
stand and  would  be  kind  enough  to  return  in  an  hour 
or  two. 

Herriard  turned  away  from  the  door,  his  disappoint- 
ment at  the  delay  merged  in  remorse  for  what  he  told 
himself  was  cruelty  and  vile  ingratitude.  Here  was  this 
man  who  had  been  to  him  more  than  a  friend  or  a 
brother,  who  had  been,  from  a  worldly  point  of  view 
at  least,  his  good  genius,  the  mainspring  of  his  success, 
lying  writhing  in  pain,  while  he,  selfish  coward,  with 
the  healer,  this  great  Viennese  specialist  at  his  very 
door,  hesitated  to  bring  him  to  his  succour.  For  it 
was  now  some  days  since  he  had  known  the  field  of 
Dr.  Hallamar's  surgical  skill;  he  had,  amid  great  pres- 
sure of  work,  so  much  must  be  admitted  in  his  excuse, 


THE  PROFESSOR  IS  PUZZLED          115 

debated  the  question  with  himself,  and  hesitated  as  to 
his  course.  Why  had  he  delayed?  His  conscience  told 
him  that  it  was  because  Gastineau's  recovery  meant  his 
own  ruin.  With  an  active  life  again  open  to  him  it 
was  not  to  be  supposed  that  his  master  would  care  to 
continue  the  strange  partnership.  Besides,  would  he 
not  at  once  become  his  rival,  and,  with  the  shining  forth 
again  of  the  stronger  natural  light,  must  not  his  arti- 
ficial beam  be  effectually  paled?  Still,  these  consider- 
ations were  not,  he  told  himself,  those  which  a  man  of 
honour  could  entertain.  His  duty  to  his  friend  and 
helper  was  clear.  He  must  do  it,  and  chance  the  con- 
sequences, relying  upon  Gastineau's  generosity  and, 
perhaps,  gratitude. 

He  was  not  so  certain  of  these.  There  came  at  times 
into  Gastineau's  eyes  an  ugly,  wolfish  look,  a  cold, 
merciless  gleam  that  seemed  to  say  that  nothing  but 
the  physical  strength  was  lacking  for  him  to  fall  upon 
and  rend  any  one  who  might  stand  in  his  way.  And 
on  such  occasions  Herriard  had,  in  spite  of  himself, 
experienced  a  kind  of  satisfaction  from  the  thought 
that  the  man  lying  before  him  with  the  fierce,  pitiless 
will  was  crippled;  that  the  bitter,  unscrupulous  soul 
was  fettered  in  that  prison  of  the  half-dead  body.  At 
times  Gastineau  would  almost  frighten  his  pupil  when 
for  a  moment  he  unleashed  the  hounds  of  his  almost 
r  Satanic  spite;  then  he  would  laugh  off  the  outburst,  and 
ascribe  it  to  his  condition.  But  there  was  no  doubt 
that  fear,  though  scarcely  acknowledged,  had  something 
to  do  with  Herriard 's  hesitation  in  the  matter  of  calling 
in  Dr.  Hallamar. 

Impatient  and  self-reproachful,  Herriard  went  into 
the  Park.  He  was  in  no  mood  to  go  home  or  to  the 


116  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

House  of  Commons,  he  would  wait  about  near  at  hand 
for  an  hour  or  so  until  he  could  see  Gastineau.  The 
news  he  had  to  tell  him  was  momentous,  and  then  he 
was  resolved  to  broach  the  subject  of  the  Austrian 
specialist  without  further  delay.  He  could  not  bear  to 
think  of  his  friend  lying  there  helpless  in  paroxysms  of 
agony  while  he,  who  owed  him  everything,  was  inhu- 
man enough  to  withhold  the  healing  hand. 

As  he  paced  up  and  down  the  stretches  of  path,  chaf- 
ing and  remorseful,  it  occurred  to  him  that  just  across 
the  way  was  Green  Street,  where  he  could  get  Dr.  Hal- 
lamar's  address  and  so  save  time,  for  he  was  determined 
that,  with  Gastineau's  consent,  not  an  hour  more  should 
be  lost  in  calling  in  the  great  surgeon.  As  he  waited 
to  cross  the  drive,  whom  should  he  see  coming  towards 
him  but  the  very  man  who  was  in  his  mind. 

"Ah,  Doctor,  well  met!  "  he  greeted  him.  "I  was 
just  on  my  way  to  our  friends  the  von  Rohnburgs  to 
ask  for  your  address. " 

Hallamar  bowed.  "  For  the  few  days  longer  I  remain 
in  England  I  am  staying  at  the  Hotel  Britannia.  Can 
I  be  of  service  to  you?  You  are  interested  in  my  work, 
yes?  " 

"You  are  very  good,  Doctor.  I  was  going  to  pro- 
pose that  you  should  visit  a  dear  friend  of  mine.  I  only 
wish  that  I  had  known  of  your  work  sooner." 

The  Doctor  bowed  again.  "Your  friend  suffers  from 
a  spinal  affection?  " 

"Yes.  The  result  of  a  railway  accident.  He  is,  poor 
fellow,  a  helpless  cripple.  I  should  almost  fear  beyond 
even  your  powers  of  healing.  He  was  terribly  hurt, 
and  for  days  after  the  accident  it  was  thought  he  could 
not  possibly  live." 


THE  PROFESSOR  IS  PUZZLED          117 

Hallamar,  beneath  his  professional  reticence,  was  evi- 
dently interested. 

"A  bad  case,  doubtless,"  he  observed.  "But  bad 
cases  are  not  necessarily  the  least  curable.  It  may 
seem  brutal  to  a  layman,  but  we  rather  rejoice  in  bad 
cases. " 

"Then  I  think  this  one  ought  to  delight  you,"  Her- 
riard  suggested  with  a  laugh.  "It  seems  to  me  as  bad 
a  case  as  you  could  have  in  a  patient  who  continues  to 
live.  And  it  must  be  a  bad  symptom,  at  least  for  him, 
poor  fellow,  that  he  suffers  at  times  a  martyrdom  of 
pain. " 

Hallamar's  face  suddenly  changed  from  an  expression 
of  sympathetic  interest  to  one  of  surprise  and  polite 
incredulity.  "Pain?  "  he  repeated,  "not  as  the  result 
of  spinal  paralysis?  " 

"Yes,"  Herriard  replied,  "so  he  tells  me.  He  suffers 
terrible  paroxysms  of  pain  at  times.  Why,  is  that  a 
rare  symptom?  " 

"Unheard  of,"  the  Professor  answered,  beginning  now 
to  regard  Herriard  as  a  witness,  whose  testimony  was 
too  inexact  and  irresponsible  to  be  accepted.  "Cer- 
tainly," he  added  reflectively,  "the  pain  you  speak  of 
may  result  from  some  other  cause,  some  lesion  in  a  part 
of  the  body  unaffected  by  the  spinal  shock.  Your  friend 
was  perhaps  hurt  elsewhere  in  the  accident?  " 

"No,"  Herriard  replied.  "I  am  pretty  sure  of  that. 
At  least  the  doctors  said  so  at  the  time. " 

"H'm!  "  Hallamar  could  not  understand  it,  but  was 
scarcely  inclined  to  accept  the  symptoms  on  hearsay, 
"The  pain  your  friend  complains  of  is  in  the  head  per- 
haps? "  he  suggested,  interested  in  spite  of  the  untrust- 
worthiness  of  the  report. 


118  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"The  head!  No,  the  back,"  Herriard  corrected. 
"  He  told  me  so." 

The  Professor  shook  his  head.     "It  could  not  be." 

"A  man,"  Herriard  objected,  "be  he  ever  so  shat- 
tered and  paralyzed,  would  scarcely  mistake  a  pain  in 
the  head  for  one  in  the  back,  would  he?  " 

Hallamar  evidently  thought  it  not  worth  while  to 
pursue  the  argument. 

"Hardly,"  he  agreed.  "Still  in  the  absence  of  any 
other  injury  a  headache  is  all  that  we  could  prognose. " 
Then,  in  answer  to  the  other's  perplexed  expression,  he 
added,  "You  see  Mr.  Herriard,  it  is  a  very  simple  and 
safe  assertion  to  make.  Shock  and  injury  to  the  spine 
produce  paralysis  of  the  nerve  ganglions  and  consequent 
loss  of  sensation;  and  where  there  is  no  sensation  there 
can  be  no  pain.  The  telegraph  wires,  so  to  speak,  be- 
tween the  brain  and  the  supposed  seat  of  pain  are 
severed;  how  then  can  the  sensation  of  pain  be  com- 
municated? You  must  have  misunderstood  your  friend. 
Well,  this  is  an  unprofitable  discussion.  If  you  would 
like  me  to  see  the  case  I  have  still  a  few  days  more  in 
England,  and  if  a  cure  by  my  treatment  seemed  likely 
I  might  even  arrange  to  extend  my  stay." 

"Indeed  I  should,"  Herriard  answered  readily.  "I 
have  been  reproaching  myself  for  having  let  the  oppor- 
tunity of  obtaining  your  advice  so  far  slip  by." 

Dr.  Hallamar  took  out  his  note-book.  "Will  you 
give  me  your  friend's  name  and  address?  " 

In  a  moment  the  idea  of  caution,  which  Gastineau's 
position  imposed,  flashed  upon  Herriard.  "Would  you 
mind  my  leaving  the  matter  for  an  hour  or  two?  "  he 
suggested.  "I  hope  I  do  not  seem  ungracious,  but  per- 
haps I  ought  to  speak  to  my  friend  first,  although  it 


THE  PROFESSOR  IS  PUZZLED          119 

is  not  conceivable  that  he  could  have  any  objection  to 
putting  himself  under  your  treatment.  I  am  going  to 
see  him  directly,  and  will  leave  a  message  at  your  hotel 
later  in  the  evening." 

There  was  a  curious  look  in  the  Professor's  eyes  as 
he  returned  the  note-book  to  his  pocket,  a  look  into 
which  Herriard  read  a  little  pique  at  his  seemingly  un- 
reasonable hesitation.  But  he  misread  it. 

"I  presume,"  said  Herriard,  as  they  turned  and 
walked  together  towards  Piccadilly,  "you  have  found 
some  interesting  cases  to  have  kept  you  over  here  so 
long?  " 

"I  have,"  Hallamar  answered  with  some  reserve. 
"It  has  been  to  my  advantage  to  stay  here. " 

"Ah,  bigger  fees  than  at  home,"  Herriard  said  to 
himself.  "You  have,  I  suppose,  the  monopoly  of  your 
treatment?  "  he  added  aloud. 

"Certainly  I  have,"  the  Doctor  replied,  a  little  tartly. 
"Why  should  I  not  reap  the  reward  of  my  discovery? 
The  attitude  of  the  medical  profession,  here  especially, 
is  antagonistic  to  innovation  and  novelty.  I  meet  them 
in  their  own  spirit.  They  withheld  recognition,  I  with- 
hold my  secret. " 

"One  cannot  blame  you.  But  surely,  Professor,  they 
recognize  the  results  of  your  treatment?  " 

Hallamar  gave  a  shrug.  "Grudgingly,  oh,  yes.  Nat- 
urally they  hate  a  man  to  succeed  where  they  must  fail. 
It  shows  up  their  incompetence.  Now,  tell  me,  this 
friend  of  yours.  How  long  has  he  been  afflicted?  " 

"Between  three  and  four  years." 

"Ah,  yes!  He  met  with  a  railway  accident,  I  think 
you  said?  " 

"Yes." 


120  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"In  England?  " 

"No,  abroad,"  Bernard  answered  guardedly. 

"So!  "  The  same  curious  look  was  on  Hallamar's 
face.  "He  is  in  London?  " 

"Yes,  inMayfair." 

"In  Mayfair?  So!  A  convenient  distance."  He 
stopped  suddenly  and  held  out  his  hand.  "Well,  I  will 
go  across  and  get  a  cab;  I  have  some  writing  to  do 
before  dinner.  You  will  see  your  friend  and  let  me 
know  this  evening?  My  time  is  short. " 

"Certainly,  in  an  hour  or  two,"  Herriard  replied,  and 
they  parted. 

It  was  with  a  considerably  lightened  conscience  that 
Herriard  presently  made  his  way  to  Gastineau's.  Hen- 
cher  told  him  that  his  master  was  now  much  better  and 
would  be  glad  to  see  him.  When  he  went  up  Gastineau 
seemed  to  be  dozing,  but  roused  himself  and  greeted 
him  with  his  usual  languid  cordiality.  But  there  was 
no  languor  in  the  eyes,  they  were  bright  and  alert  as 
ever. 

"I  have  had  another  bad  bout,"  he  said  apologeti- 
cally. "  I  am  so  sorry,  Geof ,  not  to  have  seen  you  just 
now,  only  I  might  have  been  more  sorry  if  I  had.  Now, 
you  have  something  to  tell  me?  " 

"I  have  a  good  deal  to  tell  you.  First  of  all  a  great 
piece  of  news.  Our  new  witness  Campion  has  seen  and 
recognized  the  man  we  are  after." 

Over  Gastineau's  face  fell  the  smile  of  half-amused 
interest,  with  which  one  listens  to  an  important  trifle 
from  a  child.  "Not  the  man  whom  he  saw  getting  out 
of  the  window?  " 

"Yes.     The  very  man.     He  is  ready  to  swear  to  it." 

"Ah,  then  you  have  him?  " 


THE  PROFESSOR  IS  PUZZLED          121 

"Unfortunately,  no.  He  has  been  seen  and  recog- 
nized and  that  is  all. " 

"Ah,  that  's  a  pity."  To  Herriard  in  any  other  mood 
his  reception  of  the  news  would  have  been  irritating. 
He  seemed  wilfully  incapable  of  anticipating  any  ad- 
vantage from  this  evidence.  "And  why  did  Mr.  Cam- 
pion stop  there?  " 

''He  saw  the  man  in  a  cab  last  evening.  Before  he 
could  get  another  to  follow  him  up  he  had  lost  sight 
of  it,"  Herriard  explained. 

"Ah,  that  was  a  pity,"  Gastineau  repeated,  with  the 
same  sarcastic  drawl. 

But  the  other  ignored  his  tone.  "Of  course  it  was 
a  terrible  pity.  Still,  it  has  established  that  the  man 
we  want  is  about,  and  moreover  it  has  refreshed  Cam- 
pion's memory  as  to  his  identity." 

"Everything  at  the  same  time  resting  upon  the  said 
Campion's  word." 

"My  dear  Gastineau,  why  will  you  persist  in  being  so 
sceptical?  "  Herriard  protested,  at  last  a  little  irritated. 
"  No  one  but  yourself  sees  any  reason  to  doubt  the  fel- 
low. He  has  never  contradicted  himself,  or  swerved 
from  the  straightforward  story  he  first  told." 

"Oh,  he  is  not  a  fool,  I  grant  you. " 

"And  I  am  positive  he  is  not  a  knave.  I  wish  you 
could  see  him. " 

Gastineau  gave  an  ugly  laugh.  "Thank  you;  I  don't 
want  to.  It  is  unfortunate,  seeing  his  seems  to  be  a 
pretty  piece  of  dovetailed  evidence,  but  I  do  not  be- 
lieve in  your  Mr.  Campion. " 

"It  is  prejudice,"  Herriard  expostulated. 

"Call  it  what  you  like,"  Gastineau  returned.  "I 
think  you  will  find  that  I  am  right.  This  last  move 


122  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

of  his  was  exactly  what  circumstances  required,  and  is 
precisely  what  I  should  have  expected.  How  does  he 
describe  the  man  he  saw?  " 

"A  dark  man  with  black  hair,  a  pale  face  and  pierc- 
ing eyes.  It  is  by  the  eyes,  he  says,  that  he  would 
recognize  him  anywhere." 

"And  you  have  not  yet  found  out  which  of  the 
Duchess's  guests  answers  to  that  description?  " 

"That  is  not  easy,"  Herriard  replied,  with  a  smile. 

"  No, "  Gastineau  returned.  "  I  quite  agree  with  you, 
it  is  rather  vague.  And  now,  what  is  Mr.  Campion  him- 
self like?  " 

''Campion?  "  Herriard  repeated,  with  a  look  of  sur- 
prise at  the  question. 

"  Let  us  have  his  description,  as  I  have  not  seen  him. " 

"Oh,  there  is  nothing  remarkable  about  him.  He 
is  a  somewhat  thick-set  man  of  five  and  thirty,  with 
rather  a  good,  frank  face. " 

"You  can  see  that?    He  is  clean-shaven?  " 

"No;  he  wears  a  short  brown  beard." 

"Ah!  Well,  my  dear  Geof,  I  hope  it  may  turn  out 
that  my  scepticism  is  unjustified. " 

"I  have  every  reason  to  think  it  will,"  Herriard  re- 
turned, in  a  rather  nettled  tone,  as  he  closed  the  subject. 
"And  now,  my  dear  friend,"  he  proceeded,  in  an  altered 
manner,  "I  have  another  matter  to  discuss  with  you 
and  one  of  which  I  hope  you  will  think  more  favour- 
ably." 

"Why  not,  Geof?  "  Gastineau  responded,  with  his 
disarming  smile.  "Come,  we  don't  often  disagree. 
What  is  it?  " 

"Nothing  less  than  a  great  chance  of  your  recovery." 

If  he  had  watched  the  other's  face  for  a  joyful  sign,  he 


THE  PROFESSOR  IS  PUZZLED          123 

did  not  find  it.  He  could  only  set  down  the  absence 
of  any  sign  of  eagerness  to  Gastineau's  great  power  of 
self-control.  A  curious  gleam,  which  might  mean  any- 
thing, flashed  into  his  eyes,  that  was  all. 

"Ah,  tell  me." 

"I  can't  wonder  that  you  don't  seem  to  believe  it," 
Gastineau's  manner  forced  Herriard  to  say.  "But  I 
have  come  across  a  great  man,  a  Viennese  specialist, 
over  here  just  now,  who  has  performed  wonderful  cures 
in  cases  like  yours."  He  went  on  to  tell  him  all  he 
knew  of  Dr.  Hallamar. 

Gastineau  received  the  news  with,  to  all  appearance,  a 
singular  apathy;  only  his  eyes,  which  were  fixed  on  Her- 
riard, gave  evidence  of  a  curious  interest  in  the  story. 

"Yes,"  he  commented  at  length  when  Herriard  had 
said  all  he  had  to  tell,  "it  seems  wonderful,  and  well 
worth  trying. " 

"I  am  thankful  to  hear  you  say  that,"  Herriard  ex- 
claimed heartily.  "  I  was  afraid  from  your  manner  that 
your  fit  of  scepticism  was  going  to  include  Dr.  Hallamar 
and  his  treatment. " 

Gastineau  smiled.  "I  don't  say  it  does  not.  Still, 
as  a  drowning  man,  I  am  thankful  for  any  straw  to 
clutch  at.  How  long  do  you  say  this  Dr.  Hallamar  has 
been  in  England?  " 

It  was  an  awkward  question,  and  none  the  less  so 
from  the  pointed  manner  of  its  putting.  "He  has  been 
over  here  some  little  time,"  Herriard  answered  self- 
consciously. "  Stupidly  I  never  thought  to  interest  my- 
self in  the  man  or  his  particular  line,  and  have  only  just 
found  out  his  specialty.  I  have  been  reproaching  my- 
self ever  since." 

"Not  for  long,  I  hope?  "     Herriard  told  himself  there 


124  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

was  something  behind  the  words,  but  it  may  have  been 
that  he  was  unduly  sensitive  on  the  point. 

"No,  not  for  long,  happily,"  he  replied.  "Now," 
he  added,  rising,  "you  will  let  me  go  off  and  fetch  him 
round  to  you  this  very  evening?  " 

Gastineau  put  out  a  protesting  hand.  "My  dear 
Geof,  don't  fly  off  at  a  tangent.  I  have  waited  so  long 
that  a  few  hours  can  hardly  make  a  difference.  Re- 
member, even  eminent  surgical  wonder-workers  must 
dine." 

"Still,"  Herriard  urged,  "I  had  better  let  him  know 
without  delay." 

"We  will,"  Gastineau  returned  quietly;  "I  will  write 
him  a  note  myself,  and  Hencher  shall  take  it  to  his 
hotel  at  once.  Will  you  give  me  my  writing-flap?  " 

"I  really  think  I  had  better  go  myself,"  Herriard 
objected.  "He  may  not  know  who  you  are,  and  so 
delay " 

"I  will  tell  him  and  mention  your  name,"  Gastineau 
said,  already  beginning  to  write.  "I  would  rather  you 
stayed  with  me:  I  have  a  little  something  to  say  to  you." 

So  Herriard  looked  through  a  magazine  while  the 
other  wrote.  Hencher  was  presently  summoned  and 
ordered  to  take  a  hansom  to  the  Hotel  Britannia,  to 
deliver  the  note  into  Dr.  Hallamar's  own  hands,  and 
to  bring  back  an  answer. 

"You  had  something  to  say  to  me?  "  Herriard  asked, 
when  the  man  had  gone. 

"I  had,"  Gastineau  replied.  "It  is  a  matter  which 
I  am  sure  will  be  less  repugnant  to  you  than  it  is  to 
me.  But  I  am  forced  by  circumstances  to  mention  it. 
You  know,  my  dear  Geof,"  he  continued,  as  Herriard 
sat  in  silence,  wondering  what  was  coming,  "you  know 


THE  PROFESSOR  IS  PUZZLED          125 

I  have  never  asked  you  for  any  share  in  the  more  ma- 
terial rewards  of  the  success  to  which  I  may  claim  to 
have  helped  you.  I  have  always  hoped  that  the  need 
for  any  suggestion  of  the  sort  might  never  arise.  Un- 
fortunately it  has  arisen." 

"Not  unfortunately,  my  dear  friend,"  Herriard  broke 
in  responsively.  "I  am  only  too  glad  if  you  are  going 
to  give  me  the  opportunity  of  reducing  in  a  small  degree 
my  immense  debt  to  you  which  I  could  never  hope  to 
repay. " 

"  I  know  that,  Geof, "  Gastineau  replied.  "  I  was  sure 
of  it.  Still  I  have  never,  as  you  know,  till  now,  con- 
templated any  financial  adjustment  between  us.  As 
it  is,  the  present  question  of  my  ways  and  means  which 
I  have  been  going  into  results  in  my  being  in  need  of 
a  thousand  pounds. " 

"My  dear  Gastineau,  I  am  only  too  delighted  that 
you  have  given  me  another  proof  of  your  friendship  by 
telling  me.  Luckily  I  have  quite  that  at  my  bankers, 
and  will  draw  you  a  cheque  at  once. " 

"Thank  you,  Geof,"  Gastineau  said  simply,  and  Her- 
riard taking  a  blank  cheque  from  his  letter-case  pro- 
ceeded to  fill  it  in. 

Presently  Hencher  came  back  with  a  note  to  say  that 
Doctor  Hallamar  would  call  early  next  morning. 

"  I  will  come  round  in  the  first  half-hour  I  can  snatch, " 
Herriard  said,  as  he  took  leave.  "His  will  be  to  me 
the  most  anxiously  awaited  of  'all  the  verdicts  I  have 
been  concerned  in." 

There  was  a  strangely  sarcastic  smile  on  Gastineau's 
face  as  he  replied,  "  I  fear  Geoffrey  Herriard  is  not  going 
to  win  his  case  this  time. " 

So  with  much  food  for  perplexity,  Herriard  left  him. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A  MAYFAIR   COUNSELLOR 

HERRIARD  had  indeed  much  to  exercise  his  mind 
that  night.  Thinking  over  his  interview  with 
Gastineau,  several  things  puzzled  him.  To  begin  with, 
he  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  his  friend's  continued 
attitude  of  disbelief  in  the  value  of  Campion's  evidence. 
He  would  never  even  be  brought  to  admit  that  there 
might  be  anything  in  it  beyond  an  obvious  trick  for 
obtaining  money.  Every  one  else  held  the  testimony 
to  be  invaluable;  Gastineau  alone  maintained  a  rigid 
scepticism. 

Then  Herriard  could  scarcely  understand  Gastineau's 
reception  of  the  news  about  Dr.  Hallamar.  It  was 
to  have  been  expected  that  he,  lying  there  a  helpless 
cripple  with  an  abnormally  active  brain,  his  spirit  full 
of  energy,  and  the  desire  for  action,  so  cruelly  fettered 
by  his  helpless  limbs,  would  at  least  have  shown  more 
eagerness  at  the  hope  suddenly  brought  to  him.  As  it 
was,  he  had  fallen  in  with  the  suggestion  of  submitting 
his  case  to  the  great  specialist  as  coolly,  even  casually, 
as  though  it  had  been  merely  a  question  of  sending 
round  to  the  chemist's  for  a  box  of  lozenges.  True,  he 
had  lost  no  time  about  writing,  and  here  arose  another 
question  which  perplexed  Herriard. 

Why  had  he  insisted  upon  writing  himself  to  Dr.  Hal- 
lamar? He  had  written  the  note,  had  sealed  it  up  with- 
out communicating  one  word  of  its  contents,  and  had 

126 


A  MAYFAIR  COUNSELLOR  127 

sent  it  off  by  Hencher;  whereas  the  more  natural  course 
would  have  been  to  let  him,  Herriard,  who  had  an  ac- 
quaintance with  the  Doctor,  and  had  already  half  ar- 
ranged the  visit,  be  the  messenger.  He  had  kept  him 
there,  ostensibly  to  speak  of  his  need  for  a  thousand 
pounds;  but  surely  a  few  seconds  would  have  settled 
that  simple  matter.  The  money  could  not  have  been 
transferred  before  banking  hours  next  day;  the  ques- 
tion might  have  waited  till  later  in  the  evening,  for^ 
Herriard,  had  he  gone,  would  have  returned  with  the 
Doctor,  as  he  had  practically  arranged  to  do.  Why, 
again,  when  Hallamar  had  expressed  himself  as  at  lib- 
erty and  willing  to  attend  that  evening,  had  he  put  off 
his  visit  till  the  morning?  Had  Gastineau  in  his  note 
suggested  this?  And,  if  so,  why  the  delay?  Herriard 
could  not  make  it  all  out.  Nor  why  his  friend  had  sud- 
denly found  the  pressing  need  of  a  thousand  pounds. 
He  had  always  understood  that  Gastineau  had,  during 
his  active  life,  made  a  sufficient  fortune  to  assure  him 
easy,  if  not  affluent,  circumstances  for  the  rest  of  his 
days.  His  house  was  his  own  freehold,  and,  although 
it  was  furnished  in  the  most  luxurious  and  costly  fashion, 
still  that  had  been  all  capital  expenditure  and  paid  for 
long  since:  his  current  expenses  as  an  invalid,  in  an 
existence  of  the  strictest  seclusion,  with  the  smallest 
possible  household,  could  not  be  heavy.  With  the 
single  exception  of  indulging  a  hobby  for  buying  valu- 
able books,  he  had,  so  far  as  Herriard  knew,  no  extrav- 
agances. As  his  debtor  he  was  only  too  glad  to  let  him 
have  the  money,  for  the  idea  that  all  the  profit  of  their 
partnership  was  going  to  his  share  had  often  given  him 
qualms;  still,  why  this  sudden  demand  for  a  thousand 
pounds?  Gastineau  might  have  told  him;  their  rela- 


128  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

tions  assuredly  justified  confidence;  nevertheless  his 
reasons  had  been  studiously  vague.  A  veil  of  mystery 
seemed  to  be  falling  between  the  two  men;  it  was  use- 
less to  blink  the  fact  that  of  late  their  relations  had  been 
gradually  changing.  Sometimes  there  had  seemed,  on 
Gastineau's  side  at  least,  to  be  a  certain  tacit  antago- 
nism between  them.  Herriard  could  not  understand  it. 
Was  his  friend  thinking  of  making  yet  another  man's 
fortune?  Had  he,  himself,  any  cause  for  self-reproach 
in  his  conduct  towards  his  mentor?  He  could  hardly 
charge  himself  with  that.  Until  the  question  of  Cam- 
pion's evidence  had  cropped  up  they  had  never  had 
even  a  difference  of  opinion.  Herriard  had  never  found 
himself  in  a  position  to  dispute  the  cleverer  man's  judg- 
ment until  Gastineau's  assumption  of  that  unaccount- 
able attitude  towards  the  witness  on  whom  so  much 
depended,  and  his  refusal  to  make,  at  least,  the  best 
of  it. 

One  explanation  suggested  itself,  and  it  was  that  his 
friend's  brain  might  be  gradually  becoming  affected. 
It  was  not  a  pleasant  solution,  yet  more  natural  than 
any  other  alternative  which  might  vaguely  present  it- 
self. He  had  that  evening  questioned  Gastineau  about 
the  pain  which  at  times  made  him  unfit  to  receive  even 
him,  his  one  friend:  telling  him  that  Dr.  Hallamar  could 
not  understand  the  spinal  injury  at  this  stage  causing 
him  more  than  irritation,  and  perhaps  a  little  smarting 
or  burning.  Gastineau  had  replied  rather  tartly  that 
he  might  be  allowed  to  be  the  best  judge  of  his  own 
sufferings,  and  that  a  man  would  feel  pain  in  spite  of 
the  theories  of  the  whole  medical  faculty  that  he  had 
no  business  to  have  it. 

So  Herriard  found  no  solution  of  his  perplexities;  the 


A  MAYFAIR  COUNSELLOR  129 

more  he  thought  of  his  friend's  conduct  the  more  strange 
and  unaccountable  did  it  appear;  he  could  only  post- 
pone the  elucidation  for  the  light  of  further  develop- 
ments. And  the  first  that  came  was  one  which  gave 
him  no  help  towards  enlightenment. 

When,  early  the  next  day,  he  went  to  the  house  in 
Mayfair  to  learn  the  result  of  the  specialist's  visit,  Gas- 
tineau  told  him  calmly  that  the  verdict  was  adverse. 

"No;  Dr.  Hallamar  says  he  can  do  nothing  for  me," 
the  patient  reiterated,  as  Herriard  seemed  to  question 
his  first  announcement.  "It  is  a  bad  case  of  spinal 
paralysis  following  a  crushing  lesion,  and  hopelessly  in- 
curable. Happily  I  was  never  inclined  to  indulge  in 
any  real  hope  of  a  cure." 

"But,"  Herriard  protested,  "I  understood  that  it  was 
in  treating  serious  spinal  lesions  that  Hallamar  was  so 
successful.  I  don't  understand  his  giving  you  up  at 
least  without  a  trial." 

"Hallamar  is  manifestly  a  very  clever  man,  a  genius 
possibly,  in  his  own  line,"  Gastineau  replied;  "and  your 
really  clever  man  always  knows  his  limitations.  It  is 
only  pushing  fools  and  quacks  who  blunder  on  till  their 
own  incompetency  pulls  them  up  sharply.  This  man, 
being  no  fool,  and  his  interest  being  all  the  other  way, 
tells  me,  after  a  careful  examination,  that  he  can  do 
nothing  for  me.  Neither  you  nor  I,  my  dear  Geof,  need 
go  behind  that  verdict." 

"I  am  sorry,"  said  Herriard,  in  a  tone  of  genuine 
sympathy,  "very  sorry.  I  had  set  great  hopes  on  his 
curing  you." 

Gastineau's  harsh  laugh  seemed  the  outcome  of  re- 
pressed disappointment.  "You  thought  this  wonder- 
worker could  revive  the  dead,  for  that  is  practically 
9 


130  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

what  I  am.  Even  a  Hallamar  cannot  perform  miracles. 
As  it  turns  out,  my  dear  boy,  you  need  have  no  cause 
for  regret  that  you  did  not  bring  this  medico  to  me 
sooner. " 

Something  in  the  tone  of  the  last  words  put  Herriard 

on  his  defence.  "I  give  you  my  word,  Gastineau " 

he  began  warmly.  But  the  other  stopped  him  with  a 
gesture. 

"Please  don't  trouble  to  protest,"  he  interrupted. 
"No  doubt  you  did  everything  for  the  best,  and,  as  it 
happens,  could  have  done  no  more.  I  am  here  till  I 
die,  and  it  is  just  as  well  to  know  it.  Let  us  dismiss 
the  subject  with  a  decree  nisi.  Now,  can  I  help  you 
with  anything  to-day,  or  is  it  all  plain  sailing?  " 

Two  days  afterwards  it  happened  that  the  Duchess 
of  Lancashire  was  at  home  to  her  more  select  circle  of 
intimates  and  courtiers,  among  the  latter  being  Dormer 
Greetland,  whose  profession  it  was  to  go  everywhere, 
that  is  to  say,  to  every  house  worth  entering  where  he 
could  get  admittance.  It  was  the  eve  of  the  great  libel 
trial,  the  last  stage  which  it  was  now  confidently  ex- 
pected would  triumphantly  exonerate  Countess  Alexia 
von  Rohnburg  from  the  stigma  she  had  borne. 

''I  suppose  it  is  quite  certain  that  the  Countess  will 
come  out  of  it  with  flying  colours?  "  Lady  Rotherfield 
enquired  of  the  society  newsvendor,  a  little  anxiously, 
seeing  that,  after  a  period  of  avoidance  which  might 
be  called  judicious  or  snobbish,  according  to  one's  men- 
tal view  of  the  conduct  of  her  tribe,  she  had  that  very 
afternoon  left  cards  at  the  tabooed  house  in  Green  Street. 

"She  is  bound  to,  on  this  man  Campion's  evidence," 
Greetland  assured  her  sympathetically.  "They  say  the 


A  MAYFAIR  COUNSELLOR  131 

newspaper  men  are  quite  prepared  for  at  least  a  month's 
imprisonment  and  a  thousand  pounds  fine,  which,  of 
course,  means  nothing  to  a  man  like  Brailsford.  They 
say  he  has  given  Burwoods  carte  blanche  to  furnish  his 
room  in  Holloway  in  the  most  elaborate  fashion. " 

"Ah!  "  Lady  Rotherfield  did  not  much  care  about 
the  peccant  editors  and  their  schemes  for  minimizing 
the  rigours  of  an  enforced  sojourn  in  an  unfashionable 
latitude.  She  was  more  interested  in  her  tactical  mis- 
take towards  the  von  Rohnburgs  who  might  still  be  a 
power  in  her  world. 

"I  suppose,"  she  murmured,  "everybody  has  been 
holding  off  a  little?  Of  course  things  did  at  one  time 
look  very  black  against  the  poor  Countess. " 

Greetland  gave  a  shrug  of  sympathy  which  conveyed 
a  sort  of  confession  of  apology  for  pardonable  short- 
sightedness. "One  hardly  liked  to  call  while  the  case 
hung  in  the  balance,"  he  protested.  "It  would  have 
seemed  intrusive  and  prying;  and,  naturally,  one  hates 
the  idea  of  that. " 

So  spoke  Mr.  Dormer  Greetland  whose  whole  exist- 
ence was  one  long  intrusion,  and  for  whom  earth  held 
no  greater  pleasure  than  was  to  be  derived  from  prying 
and  the  impertinent  study  of  other  folks'  weaknesses 
and  distress. 

"Ah,  then  people  have  not  been  calling?  I  wanted 
to  ask  you,  Mr.  Greetland.  You  always  know  the  rights 
and  wrongs  of  everything,  and  nowadays  people,  who 
ought  to  know  better,  are  given  to  such  provoking  in- 
accuracies, don't  you  know." 

The  recognized  fountain  of  scandal  and  arbiter  of  the 
latest  correct  conduct  accepted  the  compliment  as  merely 
a  truism.  "It  is  a  pity,"  he  pronounced,  "that  igno- 


132  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

rant  people  will  prattle  absurdities,  and  that  they  find 
others  to  believe  them.  Why,  I  can  assure  you,  Lady 
Rotherfield,  that  I  have  to  spend  half  my  time  in  con- 
tradicting the  most  ridiculous  fairy  tales  that  idiots  rush 
about  with.  It  is  enough  to  disgust  one  with  the  pres- 
ent state  of  things  in  society. " 

"Yes,"  Lady  Rotherfield  assented,  "as  though  it  were 
not  bad  enough  to  have  all  these  outsiders  pushing 
themselves  into  our  houses,  without  their  bringing  their 
misleading  half-knowledge  of  our  affairs  with  them.  So 
the  Countess  will  be  quite  rehabilitated?  I  am  so  glad. 
She  is  really  so  clever  and  charming,  and  one  shudders 
to  think  what  would  have  been  the  result  if  she  had 
been  unable  to  establish  her  innocence;  anyhow,  declas- 
se'es  have  such  a  terrible  time,  and  give  it  to  their  friends. 
I  suppose  it  would  not  do  to  invite  them  to  dine  till  the 
case  is  really  over?  " 

Greetland  pouted  dubiously.  "There  is,  of  course, 
a  certain  risk,  but  it  is  scarcely  worth  considering,  as 
the  case  stands.  On  the  other  hand,  it  would  be  a 
good  move  to  show  confidence,  where  one  is  practically 
safe,  and  an  invitation  sent  off  before  the  verdict  is 
given  would  re-establish  the  entente  cordiale.  I  know  for 
a  fact  that  Herriard  is  absolutely  certain  of  getting  a  con- 
viction, and  of  course  that  means  the  triumph  of  Alexia." 

"Just  so,"  Lady  Rotherfield  agreed.  "One  may  as 
well  send  them  to-night  an  invitation  to  dine  next  wreek. 
So  many  people  will  like  to  meet  her  now." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  the  social  Autolycus  agreed.  "The 
Countess  will  be  absolutely  the  rage,  and  it  will  be  quite 
the  smart  thing  to  give  dinners  to  meet  her.  So  I  should 
not  delay,  if  you  want  to  get  her  next  week.  There  is 
sure  to  be  a  rush  for  her. " 


A  MAYFAIR  COUNSELLOR  133 

"Ah,  yes,  to  be  sure.  People  are  so  eager  to  make 
the  best  of  these  little  disappointments.  I  '11  send  out 
cards  directly  I  get  home.  You  '11  come,  dear  Mr 
Greetland?  You  must  come.  What  day  will  suit  you? " 

"I  haven't  a  night  for  the  next  three  weeks,"  an- 
swered the  much  desired  gossip. 

"Oh,  but  you  must  really  come,"  Lady  Rotherfield 
urged.  "What  people  next  week  can  you  throw  over 
best?  " 

The  preux  chevalier  consulted  a  gold-bound  note-book. 
"Let  me  see,"  he  murmured,  as,  with  an  air  of  due 
importance,  he  ran  through  his  thronging  engagements. 
"  You  know  I  '11  do  what  I  can  for  you,  dear  lady. 
Tuesday,  the  Andovers;  Lady  Andover  would  never 
forgive  me  if  I  threw  her  over;  Wednesday,  the  Zoy- 
lands;  half  the  Cabinet  will  be  there,  I  must  go  and 
make  Lord  Sarum  tell  me  what  we  are  really  going  to 
do  about  Russia;  Thursday,  the  Tudor-Fitzralphs;  I 
am  to  dine  and  go  to  the  play  with  some  poor  people 
who  have  just  bought  the  Duke  of  St.  Ives's  house  in 
Piccadilly;  they  are  hopeless  outsiders,  by  way  of  being 
millionaires,  of  course,  and  all  that,  which  is  so  tire- 
some, but  I  have  promised  to  do  what  I  can  for  them, 
and  it  would  be  an  awful  blow  if  I  did  n't  turn  up. " 

"Surely  you  might  throw  the  wretched  creatures 
over,"  his  would-be  hostess  suggested.  "Millionaires 
have  no  feelings,  to  speak  of,  or  they  would  never  have 
become  millionaires.  Surely  you  are  not  going  to  let 
such  absurd  people  stand  in  your  way?  " 

"Oh,  no,"  Greetland  responded;  they  are  too  utterly 
impossible  and  beneath  consideration.  One  would  think 
as  little  of  throwing  them  over  as  of  pitching  a  pebble 
into  the  Serpentine.  But  the  difficulty  is  that  I  have 


134  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

got  Lady  Hester  Nayland  to  consent  to  go,  and  if  I  am 
not  there  she  will  have  no  one  to  speak  to. " 

"Why  does  she  go?  "  was  Lady  Rotherfield's  not  un- 
natural enquiry. 

"Well,"  Greetland  explained,  "it  appears  that  Lady 
Hester,  who  has  taken  up  good  works  since  Ormskirk 
jilted  her,  landed  the  millionaire  people  the  other  day 
at  a  bazaar  with  a  lot  of  rubbish  at  fancy  prices.  They 
are  as  keen  on  getting  something  more  for  their  money 
as  she  is  for  their  money.  So  she  has  graciously  con- 
sented to  dine  with  them  on  condition  that  she  goes 
into  dinner  with  me  and  is  not  expected  to  speak  much 
to  the  nouveaux  riches.  Consequently,  if  I  fail,  poor 
Lady  Hester  will  be  reduced  to  silence  for  a  whole  even- 
ing, and  you  know,  to  put  it  mildly,  she  has  no  impedi- 
ment in  her  sppech. " 

"No,  indeed,  "Lady  Rotherfield  replied,  "except  the 
impediment  it  made  to  her  marriage.  They  say  Orms- 
kirk was  absolutely  stunned,  and  for  a  relief  has  gone 
out  to  some  spot  on  the  Sahara  where  he  won't  hear 
the  sound  of  a  human  voice  for  six  months." 

"Yes,"  Greetland  said,  "I  'm  afraid  it  would  be  the 
refinement  of  cruelty  to  leave  Lady  Hester  in  the  lurch, 
and  she  does  in  her  heart  so  hate  the  haute  Juiverie. 
No,  I  see  I  am  dining  with  the  Ambroses  on  Friday. 
They  are  unexceptional  themselves,  but  rather  injudi- 
cious in  their  choice  of  friends.  One  never  knows  what 
one  is  in  for  there.  I  once  had  to  meet  at  their  house 
an  awful  person  from  the  City  who  talked  in  multiples  of 
a  million,  and  whose  principal  capital  seemed  to  be 
capital  I's.  He  had  brought  an  absurd  wife,  festooned 
with  diamonds  like  a  segment  of  a  transformation  scene. 
I  told  Lady  Ambrose  that  if  she  ever  invited  these 


A  MAYFAIR  COUNSELLOR  135 

farcical  creatures  again,  which  I  hoped  she  would  not, 
she  ought  to  arrange  to  have  a  lime-light  man  to  throw 
different  colours  on  the  pantomime  person  to  vary  the 
monotony  of  the  ill-gotten  gems. 

"No  wonder,"  Lady  Rotherfield  observed,  "diamonds 
are  going  out  of  fashion  with  us." 

"Very  well,  then,"  Greetland  decided,  "it  must  be 
Friday.  If  poor  Lady  Ambrose  will  be  injudicious  about 
the  people  she  asks  one  to  meet,  she  must  expect  an 
occasional  disappointment. " 

"Friday,  then,"  said  the  lady.  "It  is  quite  good  of 
you.  I  will  secure  the  von  Rohnburgs  at  once.  Ah, 
dear  Duchess,"  she  went  on,  as  their  hostess  joined 
them,  "we  were  just  talking  of  this  tiresome  case.  How 
you,  to  say  nothing  of  the  dear  Countess  Alexia,  must 
have  been  worried,  and  how  glad  you  must  be  at  the 
prospect  of  seeing  the  last  of  it.  Will  the  Duke  have 
to  give  evidence  again?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  I'm  afraid  so,"  the  Duchess  answered, 
with  a  touch  of  ruefulness.  "The  poor  Duke  has  been 
bound  over  to  appear  again  just  as  though  he  were 
a  common  malefactor  who  would  be  likely  to  ab- 
scond. " 

"How  absurd,"  Lady  Rotherfield  exclaimed,  with  as 
much  show  of  indignation  as  she  could  command. 

"Yes,"  her  Grace  pursued.  "I  call  it  abominable 
and  most  idiotic  that  there  should  be  no  distinction 
made  between  people  in  our  position  and  the  common 
herd  whose  native  air  is  the  atmosphere  of  a  police 
court.  Why  should  a  man  like  Lancashire  be  forced 
to  hang  about  the  horrid  dingy  place,  jostled  by  all 
sorts  of  unpleasant  people,  and  then  be  insulted  and 
browbeaten  by  unmannerly  lawyers- who  would  not  dare 


136  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

to  speak  to  him  anywhere  else?  I  call  it  too  disgust- 
ing." 

"The  Duke  must  hate  it,"  Greetland  suggested  sym- 
pathetically. 

"Naturally.  He  is  most  indignant  about  the  whole 
business.  And  the  police-court  ordeal,  he  says,  is  so 
unconstitutional  in  his  case.  How  can  men  in  Lan- 
cashire's position  expect  to  be  looked  up  to,  and  to  keep 
up  their  dignity,  if  they  are  liable  to  be  placed  in  these 
ridiculous  positions  and  made  a  laughing-stock  for  the 
mob?  " 

"Just  so,"  Lady  Rotherfield  agreed,  in  a  tone  of 
compassionate  indignation.  "That  is  what  I  always 
maintain.  If  Dukes  and  so  forth  are  to  have  their 
weaknesses  exposed  and  to  be  exhibited  as  no  different 
from  ordinary  humanity,  what  becomes  of  their  prestige 
and  influence?  They  ought  certainly  to  be  exempt  from 
these  public  exposures. " 

This  was  going  somewhat  farther  towards  the  truth 
than  the  Duchess  had  intended.  She  looked  rather 
black,  while  Greetland 's  face  was  a  study  of  amuse- 
ment struggling  with  the  professional  decorum  due 
towards  the  Peerage. 

"The  Duke,"  said  her  Grace  tartly,  "talks  of  bring- 
ing the  question  before  the  House  of  Lords. " 

"Don't  you  think,  Duchess,"  suggested  Lady  Roth- 
erfield sweetly,  "that  it  would  be  wiser  to  let  it  drop? 
You  are  not  likely  to  have  another  affair  of  the  sort 
here,  one  would  hope,  and  if  it  is  debated,  that  terrible 
farceur,  Evesham,  is  sure  to  make  fun  of  it  and,  inci- 
dentally, of  the  dear  Duke. " 

The  Duchess's  face  lowered  darker  than  ever.  She 
was  very  tenacious  of  her  monopoly  of  gibing  at  her 


A  MAYFAIR  COUNSELLOR  137 

consort's  stupidity.  Greetland,  who  had  plenty  of  tact, 
natural  and  acquired,  was  about  to  intervene  with  a 
change  of  subject,  when  Aubrey  Playford,  who  had  just 
come  in,  joined  them  with  a  suggestion  in  his  manner 
of  something  important  to  tell. 

"Have  you  heard  the  latest  news,  Duchess?  "  he 
asked  quickly,  as  he  touched  her  hand. 

"No;  what  is  it?  "  the  Duchess  enquired,  in  some 
trepidation  as  she  noticed  the  little  malicious  gleam  of 
pleasure  in  his  eyes. 

"Anything  to  do  with  the  case?  "  Greetland  asked 
casually.  It  was  natural  for  him  to  hate  people  who 
got  before  him  with  news. 

"Very  much  to  do  with  the  case,"  Playford  replied. 
"This  new  witness,  Campion,  whose  evidence  was  to 
settle  it  off-hand " 

"What!  "  exclaimed  Lady  Rotherfield  breathlessly, 
"he  has  not  absconded?  " 

"Worse,  for  him,  at  any  rate,"  Playford  answered. 
"He  has  met  with  a  fatal  accident." 

The  news  was  so  startling  that  for  a  few  moments 
no  one  could  speak. 

"How  unfortunate!  "  Lady  Rotherfield  commented 
mechanically. 

"  How  dreadful! "  chimed  in  the  Duchess,  trying  to  cal- 
culate how  the  incident  would  affect  her  interest  in  the 
case. 

"But  is  it  true?  "  Greetland  questioned  sceptically. 
He  always  made  a  point  of  challenging  the  authenticity 
of  news  carried  by  other  people. 

"Undoubtedly  true,"  Playford  returned  emphatically. 
"  He  was  knocked  down  and  run  over  by  a  hansom  this 
evening,  and,  curiously  enough,  just  here  in  Picca- 


138  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

dilly,  not  a  stone's  throw  from  where  he  made  out  he 
originally  saw  Reggie  Martindale's  supposed  mur- 
derer. " 

The  propinquity  of  the  tragedy  slightly  enchanced  its 
impressiveness. 

"And  he  is  dead?  "    The  Duchess  asked  the  question. 

Play  ford  gave  a  decisive  nod.  "Died  before  they 
could  get  him  to  St.  George's  Hospital." 

"Are  they  sure  it  is  the  same  man?"  Greetland 
suggested,  holding  tenaciously  to  his  line  of  non-accep- 
tance. 

"Absolutely,"  Playford  answered.  "My  man  told 
me  all  about  it.  He  saw  the  poor  fellow  being  taken 
away  in  the  ambulance.  And  I  made  a  point  of  calling 
at  the  police-station  to  enquire  if  what  I  had  heard  was 
true.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the  man  was  Campion; 
the  Superintendent  was  quite  positive.  So  I  thought 
I  would  come  and  tell  you  at  once,  Duchess. " 

"It  was  very  kind  of  you,"  the  hostess  replied,  as 
graciously  as  her  state  of  mind  permitted.  "Dear  me, 
this  distressing  business  seems  unending. " 

"Poor  Countess  Alexia!  "  Greetland  remarked,  slyly 
watching  Lady  Rotherfield. 

The  prospective  hostess  of  the  unfortunate  Countess 
had  for  the  moment  overlooked  that  consequence  of 
the  tragedy. 

"  Ah, "  she  exclaimed,  waking  up  to  the  fresh  interest. 
"This  poor  man's  death  must  make  all  the  difference 
to  her,  must  it  not?  " 

"Decidedly,"  Playford  answered,  with  a  readiness 
bred  of  malice. 

The  Duchess  had  gone  off  to  carry  the  news.  Lady 
Rotherfield  turned  to  Greetland. 


A  MAYFAIR  COUNSELLOR  139 

"Oh,  Mr.  Greetland,  how  lucky  this  unpleasant  news 
came  just  now.  Fancy  one's  feelings  if  one  had  seen 
it  in  the  papers  to-morrow  morning,  when  the  invita- 
tions had  been  posted  over-night!  I  do  hope  Lady 
Ambrose  won't  have  another  objectionable  City  person 
to  inflict  on  you  next  Friday. " 


CHAPTER  XIV 

§ 

THE   TRAGEDY   DEEPENS 

IT  was  a  terrible  and  dismaying  blow  that  had  fallen 
so  tragically  upon  the  hopes  of  triumph  and  vin- 
dication. Herriard  on  his  way  to  the  Countess  Alexia 
with  the  news — which  had  been  sent  to  him  at  once — 
called  at  Gastineau's,  being  anxious  to  gather  every 
grain  of  hope  there  might  be  of  making  the  best  of  this 
bitter  disappointment. 

"  I  have  not  come  to  worry  you  any  more  about  Cam- 
pion," was  Herriard's  greeting,  with  a  short  bitter  laugh 
of  discomfiture.  "The  poor  fellow  will  never  give  evi- 
dence now.  He  is  dead. " 

Gastineau  gave  him  a  sharp  glance  of  surprised  en- 
quiry. He  was  lying  back  in  a  state  of  greater  listless- 
ness  than  Herriard  ever  remembered  to  have  seen  in 
him  since  the  first  effects  of  the  accident. 

"Dead?    How?  " 

Herriard  told  him.  "It  happened  in  Piccadilly,  by 
the  Green  Park;  within  sight  of  Vaux  House.  And  it 
is  a  bad  blow  for  us,  with  all  deference  to  your  views. " 

"I  fear  I  must  continue  in  disagreement  with  you," 
Gastineau  returned,  with  a  confident  smile.  "I  am  of 
opinion  that  the  cabman  who  knocked  down  the  late 
Mr.  Campion  has  unwittingly  done  your  side  a  substan- 
tial service. " 

Herriard  took  an  impatient  turn  across  the  room. 
"Gastineau,  you  carry  your  opinion,  your  scepticism, 

140 


THE  TRAGEDY  DEEPENS  141 

too  far.  Surely  between  us  you  need  not  make  such  a 
point  of  maintaining  it  so  obstinately." 

He  spoke  with  a  certain  amount  of  heat,  with  the 
sense  of  disappointment  stinging  him  doubly,  in  his 
heart  and  head. 

As  Gastineau's  eyes  followed  his  impatient  movement 
they  seemed  to  laugh  subtly.  "If,"  he  said,  "you  will 
give  the  situation  a  moment's  calm  thought,  my  dear 
Geof,  you  will  see  what  I  mean  by  suggesting  that  by 
this  man's  death  your  client  is  no  worse  off,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  has  gained  an  advantage. " 

"It  would  take  a  more  penetrating  intellect  than 
mine  to  see  that,"  Herriard  returned,  with  ill-humoured 
sarcasm. 

"At  least  let  me  try  to  put  it  to  you,"  Gastineau  re- 
joined, with  a  smile  at  the  other's  temper.  "Now,  take 
the  position  dispassionately.  First  of  all,  what  are  you 
going  for?  To  clear  Countess  Alexia's  reputation  of  the 
slander  that  has  touched  it.  That,  I  grant  you,  with 
this  man  Campion's  evidence  you  would  have  done  tri- 
umphantly— if  it  had  withstood  all  the  hot  attacks  which 
would  have  been  made  upon  it.  The  evidence  he  would 
have  given,  had  he  lived,  is  now  common  knowledge; 
his  narrative,  his  uncontradicted  narrative,  has  been 
published  by  enterprising  journalists;  everybody  knows 
it.  So  you  stand  in  the  position  to-day  of  having  got 
your  examination-in-chief  before  the  public  without  any 
chance  of  cross-examination  by  the  other  side.  Is  not 
that  a  score?  You  have  succeeded  in  getting  the  world's 
sympathy  for  your  interesting  client,  and  it  will  be  aug- 
mented rather  than  diminished  by  this  unlooked-for 
incident,  which  will  assuredly  be  regarded  as  a  cruel 
blow." 


142  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"As  it  is,"  Herriard  murmured;  beginning,  however, 
to  see  the  cloud's  bright  side. 

"Of  course,"  Gastineau  agreed;  "but  it  won't  hurt 
you.  It  is  far,  far  better  for  you  than  one  shaky  answer 
in  the  witness-box.  Yes;  to  sum  up,  you  have  the  status 
quo  ante,  with  the  sympathy  transferred  to  your  side, 
the  dead  man's  uncontradicted,  and,  now,  uncontra- 
dictable,  evidence  on  record  in  the  public  mind.  And 
you  must  remember  that,  in  a  case  of  this  sort,  it  is  the 
public,  not  the  jury,  which  gives  the  real  verdict.  Yes, 
my  dear  Geof,  you  are  to  be  congratulated,  or,  at  least, 
the  Countess  is.  Come !  confess  you  see  it. " 

"Oh,  yes,"  Herriard  answered,  recovering  somewhat 
from  the  blankness  of  his  discomfiture;  "I  admit  we 
are  in  a  far  better  position  now  than  before  Campion 
turned  up.  Still,  I  cannot  agree  that  we  gain  by  his 
death.  I  am  absolutely  convinced  that  his  evidence 
would  have  remained  unshaken  before  Macvee's  big 
guns;  and  I  cannot  understand  why  you  have  all  along 
taken  such  a  prejudiced  view  of  the  poor  man  and  the 
genuineness  of  his  testimony." 

"It  is  scarcely  worth  while  discussing  it  now,"  Gas- 
tineau replied,  with  a  half  yawn.  "I  am  quite  ready 
to  admit  that  I  may  have  been  utterly  wrong.  Had 
it  not  been  for  the  seriousness  of  the  issue  I  could  be 
sorry  that  the  question  of  the  stability  of  his  evidence 
can  never  now  be  settled.  As  it  is  we  may  consign  the 
question  to  the  limbo  of  the  great  undecided,  and  rest 
content  with  the  gain  it  has  brought  us.  I  suppose  the 
poor  fellow  was  dead  when  picked  up?  " 

"No,"  Herriard  answered;  "he  lived  for  ten  minutes, 
and  was  able  to  give  an  account  of  the  accident.  It 
appears  he  was  running  after  a  cab,  in  which  he  had 


THE  TRAGEDY  DEEPENS  143 

recognized  again  the  man  we  are  in  search  of,  the  man 
who  is  supposed  to  have  killed  Martindale.  In  his  ex- 
citement poor  Campion  failed  to  notice  a  hansom  which 
swung  out  of  Berkeley  Street,  and  ran  him  down. " 

"H'm!  I  quite  agree  with  you,  it  is  a  pity,"  Gastineau 
observed,  in  an  indifferently  sceptical  tone;  "a  pity  that 
the  all-important  Mr.  Campion  has  come  to  so  unroman- 
tic  an  end.  It  would  have  been  highly  interesting  to 
have  seen  what  sort  of  a  figure  he  would  have  cut  in 
the  witness-box,  with  Joshua  Standish  Macvee  for  a 
vis-a-vis. " 

"I  can  imagine  but  one  result,"  Herriard  replied, 
with  a  dry  reserve.  "Well,  I  am  going  on  to  Green 
Street  to  do  what  I  can  to  lighten  this  blow.  Your  view 
of  the  matter  will  at  least  help  me  to  do  that." 

"Yes,"  Gastineau  agreed;  "I  think  you  may  venture 
to  congratulate  Countess  Alexia.  The  reckless  cabby 
did  your  client  no  bad  turn." 

"Perhaps  not,"  Herriard  returned;  "but  we  did  not 
want  to  win  like  that. " 

"Better  like  that  than  not  at  all,"  Gastineau  rejoined. 
"You  now  have  the  Countess  practically  cleared  so  far 
as  the  world  is  concerned.  The  passing  of  Campion  re- 
habilitates her  by  providing  a  very  plausible,  if,  to  legal 
minds,  somewhat  unconvincing,  solution  of  the  mys- 
tery. " 

The  pointed  significance  in  his  tone  was  not  to  be 
ignored.  Herriard  started  up,  impelled  by  the  shock 
of  a  conviction  then  first  realized.  "Gastineau,"  he 
exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  protest,  almost  of  indignation, 
"you  are  not  going  to  tell  me  you  think  the  Countess 
guilty?  " 

The  other  smiled  meaningly.     "My  dear  Geof,  I  am 


144  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

not  blind  to  possibilities  and  probabilities,  if  you  are; 
but  then,  perhaps,  I  have  not  the  same  reason. " 

It  was  the  first  time  that  Herriard  had  known  his 
friend  to  sneer  at  him,  and  the  tone  of  the  last  words 
stung  him  uncomfortably.  In  that  instant  he  realized 
how  the  fissure  between  them  wag  extending;  and  the 
situation  which  seemed  so  swiftly  developing  was  made 
none  the  less  unhappy  by  its  incomprehensibility,  by 
its  being  devoid  of  an  adequate  cause.  A  difference  of 
opinion.  Was  that  to  dissolve  the  close  partnership, 
that  alliance  of  theirs  against  the  world?  It  seemed 
pitifully  absurd.  Herriard  had  vowed  that  no  act  of 
his  should  help  to  widen  the  breach.  It  was  curious 
how  this  case  had  come  between  them;  there  seemed 
such  animus  behind  Gastineau's  arguments,  and  as  Her- 
riard's  feeling  was  all  the  other  way,  it  became  increas- 
ingly difficult  for  him  to  keep  to  his  resolve.  "My  dear 
fellow,  it  is  preposterous,"  was  all  he  could  trust  him- 
self to  say.  "  I  can  hardly  think  you  mean  it  seriously. " 

"I  merely  say  that  I  see  nothing  inherently  improb- 
able in  the  suggestion,"  Gastineau  replied,  in  his  keen 
argumentative  manner.  "  In  fact,  from  the  circumstan- 
tial evidence  we  have,  the  probabilities  are,  pace  the 
late  Mr.  Campion,  all  the  other  way.  I  will  simply  put 
one  point  to  you.  Why  and  how  should  another  man, 
the  person  whom  Campion  declared  he  saw,  stab  Martin- 
dale  to  death  with  an  ornament  from  Countess  Alexia's 
hair?  Why  should  he  want  to  do  it  at  all?  and,  if  so, 
why  and  how  with  that  particular  weapon?  At  least  it 
points  to  the  Countess  being  an  accessory  before  the 
fact.  Now  I  really  should  like  to  hear  a  good  rebutting 
argument  against  that." 

Herriard  had  turned  away  from  him,  and  was  leaning 


THE  TRAGEDY  DEEPENS  145 

with  his  arms  on  the  mantelpiece.  "The  argument  is," 
he  replied,  in  a  voice  low  from  restraint,  "that  the 
Countess  lost  the  ornament.  And  my  unshakable  be- 
lief is  that  she  had  nothing  to  do  with  Martindale's 
death  either  as  principal  or  accessory." 

"Your  argument  is  nebulously  vague  and  just  con- 
ceivable, but  at  the  same  time  wildly  improbable," 
Gastineau  returned,  in  his  quiet,  cutting  tone.  "But 
that  you  seem  not  a  little  epris  with  your  fair  client  I 
should  not  think  you  in  earnest  in  putting  it  forward. " 

Herriard  raised  his  head  and  turned  to  the  couch. 
"Gastineau,  if  you  really  think  the  Countess  guilty,  for 
Heaven's  sake,  let  the  case  never  be  mentioned  between- 
us  again.  We  don't  want  to  quarrel;  it  would  ill  be- 
come me  to  be  at  issue  with  you  to  whom  I  owe  so 
much,  but  it  is  certain  that  if  we  pursue  this  subject  we 
shall  quarrel,  since  my  whole  sense  revolts  from  your 
theory.  So  let  it  be  taboo. " 

Gastineau  laughed,  and  his  laugh  was  as  a  sneer  at 
the  other's  heated  earnestness. 

"We  never  should  have  come  near  to  joining  issue  had 
you  not  let  your  heart  run  away  with  your  head.  A 
lawyer  ceases  to  be  a  lawyer  when  he  allows  feelings 
and  prejudices  to  interfere  with  his  judgment.  So  far 
as  our  profession  goes  a  man  must  be  all  head,  a  legal 
thinking  machine,  if  you  like.  It  is  not  perhaps  an 
ideal  equipment,  but  it  is  the  only  workable  one. " 

"I  dare  say,"  Herriard  replied,  in  a  tone  of  doubtful 
conviction.  "Happily,  or  unhappily,  very  few  of  us 
can  quite  succeed  in  stifling  our  private  judgment  of 
those  with  whom  we  have  to  deal. " 

"  True.  And  the  man  who  succeeds  best  in  that  makes 
the  best  lawyer,  other  things  being  equal,"  Gastineau 
10 


146  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

returned  dogmatically.  "Now  we  won't  quarrel,  Geof, 
over  the  last  word  of  this  burning  subject,  but  I  must 
give  it  you  in  the  form  of  a  word  of  warning.  Let  me 
as  an  older  man  of  the  world  than  yourself,  and  as  one 
who  has  nothing  more  to  gain  or  lose  in  this  world,  put 
you  on  your  guard  against  the  state  into  which  you  ure 
drifting. " 

"What  do  you  mean?  " 

"I  refer  to  the  Countess  Alexia.  That  is  all,  and  I 
will  say  no  more,  except  that  if  you  let  yourself  go  too 
far  in  that  direction  you  will  bitterly  repent  it." 

Herriard  repressed  the  words  that  sprang  to  his  lips. 
"Very  well,  Gastineau,"  he  responded  simply;  "I  take 
your  warning  in  the  spirit  in  which  it  is  given." 

An  inscrutable  smile  flitted  across  Gastineau's  face, 
as  he  nodded  in  response  to  the  other's  words. 

And  so  they  parted. 

Herriard  went  towards  Green  Street  in  a  perplexed 
and  uneasy  state  of  mind.  There  could  be  only  one 
explanation  of  Gastineau's  warning,  and  it  was  that  he 
believed  Countess  Alexia  guilty.  But  that  was  utterly 
preposterous.  Herriard  comforted  himself  with  the 
thought  that  his  friend  knew  little  of  the  Countess,  hav- 
ing only  met  her  casually  in  society  years  before.  His 
was  a  hard,  judicial  brain;  he  would  believe  anything 
of  anybody  if  the  legal  probabilities  pointed  to  such  a 
conclusion;  the  human  element  in  the  case,  if  not  en- 
tirely ignored,  would  be  reduced  to  an  equation  and 
governed  by  the  law  of  mathematical  chances.  But, 
logic  or  no  logic,  the  idea  that  the  Countess  might  be 
guilty  was  monstrous.  Knowing  her  as  he  did,  Her- 
riard was  sure  that  she  had  not  even  the  most  venial 


THE  TRAGEDY  DEEPENS  147 

and  innocent  connection  with  Martindale's  death.  Nor, 
putting  bias  away,  could  he  find  the  slightest  ground 
for  discrediting  Campion's  testimony.  Well,  thank 
Heaven,  the  case  would  soon  be  brought,  as  he  fully 
anticipated,  to  a  happy  conclusion,  and  his  relations 
with  the  Countess  need  never  again  form  the  subject  of 
argument. 

"I  have  brought  you  bad  news,"  he  said  to  her  when 
they  met. 

Alexia's  face  paled  for  an  instant,  as  her  eyes  ques- 
tioned him  apprehensively.  He  told  her  what  had  hap- 
pened, and  the  pros  and  cons  of  its  probable  effect  upon 
the  case. 

"I  am  inclined  to  think  we  are  not  so  very  much 
worse  off,"  he  said,  "by  the  poor  fellow's  death,  shock- 
ing as  it  is,  and  greatly  as  we  must  regret  it.  You 
must  not  take  it  so  much  to  heart,  Countess, "  he  added, 
for  he  could  see  how  dismayed  and  anxious  the  news 
had  made  her. 

"Oh,  but  I  fear,  I  fear,"  she  returned,  in  a  low 
voice. 

"Indeed  you  need  not  fear,"  he  urged  encouragingly. 

"When  I  think  what  is  at  stake  how  can  I  help  it?  " 

He  leaned  forward.  "Countess,  you  have  no  cause 
for  fear,"  he  said  half-interrogatively.  The  words  were 
spoken  more  to  give  Gastineau's  suggestion  the  lie  than 
to  satisfy  any  doubt  in  his  own  mind.  Next  moment 
he  hated  himself  for  the  inflexion  that  made  them  seem 
a  question.  With  the  swift  intuition  of  a  clever  woman 
she  divined  the  subtle  equivocalness  of  the  speech.  Per- 
haps she  felt  it  was  not  altogether  uncalled-for,  that  it 
was  reasonable.  She  looked  at  him  steadily,  frankly, 
and  her  look  sealed  his  self-condemnation. 


148  .     THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"  I  have  only  one  cause  for  fear,"  she  said,  "a  miscar- 
riage of  justice,  the  possible  success  of  a  vile  slander. " 

"I  am  sure  of  that,  Countess,"  he  replied,  with  a 
warmth  bred  of  repentance.  "And  I  should  think  none 
the  less  of  you  if  your  fear  extended  farther.  But  I 
have  no  dread  at  all  of  the  issue  of  this  case,  and  wish  1 
could  infect  you  with  my  certainty." 

"I  think  you  have,"  she  responded,  with  an  effort 
at  conviction.  "But  in  this  world  things  go  curiously 
wrong  sometimes,  and,  while  there  is  suspense,  there 
must,  to  a  woman,  at  least,  be  fear. " 

"  I  hate  the  thought  of  your  fear, "  he  said  in  a  lower 
voice;  "it  seems  to  increase  my  responsibility." 

Alexia  smiled.  "No,  no,  my  friend,"  she  protested, 
"you  must  not  think  that.  You,  at  least,  cannot  fail; 
your  victory  is  already  gained. " 

"Not  yet,"  he  replied  deprecatingly;  "still,  I  am  con- 
fident that  it  will  be. " 

A  sudden  thought  came  to  him;  the  conviction  that 
if  he  were  to  put  his  fate  to  the  touch  it  should  be  now; 
that  to  wait  would  be  the  timid,  unchivalrous  trick  of 
an  opportunist,  and  as  he  realized  that  the  moment  had 
come  he  stood  dismayed.  He  glanced  at  the  Countess, 
with  a  strange  diffidence,  for  in  his  dealings  with  men 
and  women  confidence  had  become  almost  as  second 
nature.  The  constrained  silence  that  had  come  upon 
them  seemed  to  prick  him  on;  each  second  it  lasted 
made  the  urgency  cumulative.  And  yet  words  failed 
him.  What  could  he  say  to  her?  How  could  he  say 
it?  His  eyes  rested  on  the  graceful  lines  of  her  figure, 
the  exquisite  colouring  and  contour  of  her  head.  She 
was  not  a  girl,  but  a  woman  of  matured  sensibilities 
for  sympathy  and  love;  the  one  woman  he  had  met 


THE  TRAGEDY  DEEPENS      149 

whom  he  longed  to  ask  to  share  his  life,  the  one  woman 
in  whose  company  he  would  be  more  content  to  face 
trouble  than  to  pass  a  cloudless  existence  with  any 
other.  Yet  how  could  he  but  hesitate?  She  was  above 
him  in  rank;  there  was  something  royal  in  the  very  turn 
of  her  head,  in  the  subtle  splendour  that  seemed  to  ex- 
hale from  her  presence.  True  he  was  somebody  now 
in  the  world;  he  had  made  his  name  both  at  the  Bar 
and  in  the  House.  Then,  with  the  encouraging  thought, 
the  spectre  of  his  deceit  rose  up  and  stood  between  him 
and  his  love,  till  he  wished  she  were  guilty  that  they 
might  meet  on  more  equal  terms.  Still,  that  present 
one  was  the  moment  to  be  seized.  That  thought  was 
insistent;  it  was  under  the  shadow  of  this  sharp  disap- 
pointment that  he  must  risk  the  question. 

As  he  stood  hesitating  and  tongue-tied,  Alexia  looked 
up,  as  it  were  with  a  glance  of  enquiry  as  to  the  rea- 
son of  the  silence.  It  was  a  provocative  lifting  of  the 
deep  grey  eyes,  and  it  drew  him  into  speech  as  though 
moved  by  an  enchanter's  touch  outside  the  pale  of  cal- 
culation. 

"Countess,"  he  said,  "I  wish  I  might,  without  of- 
fence, ask  for  the  crown  of  my  victory." 

She  seemed  to  shrink  a  little  from  him,  as  she  replied 
in  a  low  voice,  yet  steadily,  "The  victory  is  not  yet 
won;  the  crown  is  of  doubtful  glory." 

His  tongue  was  loosened  now.  "Never  to  me,"  he 
declared  with  passion.  "Countess,  it  is  all  that  I  covet 
in  this  world;  it  can  never  be  anything  less  to  me  than 
pure  gold.  Ah,  if  I  might  ever  hope  to  wear  it!  " 

But  she  made  no  responsive  sign.  "It  is  not  time 
to  speak  of  that,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  in  which  the 
feeling  was  so  repressed  that  it  seemed  cold. 


150  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"If,"  he  rejoined,  in  a  like  tone,  "it  may  ever  be, 
surely  this  is  the  time. " 

Again  she  looked  at  him;  there  was  gratitude  and, 
he  thought,  something  yet  more  to  be  desired  in  her 
eyes.  "No,  my  friend,"  she  said,  with  gentle  denial; 
"  not  now. " 

"Alexia,"  he  pleaded,  laying  his  hand  on  her  arm, 
"let  me  tell  you  how  I  love  you. " 

But  again  she  shook  her  head,  and  moved  away  from 
the  tentative  caress.  "No,"  she  replied;  "you  must 
not  speak  a  word  of  that  to  me. " 

"Not  yet?  " 

She  hesitated  a  moment  or  two,  and  in  the  pause  his 
hopes  swiftly  grew.  Then,  almost  in  a  whisper,  the 
words  came  repeated,  "Not  yet." 

As  he  realized  what  those  words  meant,  joy  thrilled 
him  beyond  all  power  of  the  restraint  he  owed  her. 
"Alexia,  my  love!  "  The  cry  burst  out  from  the  rap- 
ture of  his  good  fortune.  But  she  turned  quickly  to 
him,  putting  out  her  hands  protestingly. 

"No,  no,  please;  not  that,"  she  said,  and  in  the  en- 
treaty there  was  a  touch  of  command.  "I  know  that 
you,  of  all  men,  will  respect  my  wish. " 

"It  is  hard,"  he  returned  submissively,  "but  I  must. 
If  you  knew  how  hard,  dear  Countess,  you  would  for- 
give me. " 

"I  have  nothing  to  forgive,"  she  replied  simply;  and 
for  a  while  no  more  was  spoken  between  them. 

Then  their  talk  reverted  to  the  burning  subject  of 
the  trial,  till  presently  Count  Prosper  came  in. 

He  had  heard  at  his  club  the  news  of  Campion's  death, 
and  the  friends  he  was  with  had  tried  to  lessen  the 
shock  it  gave  him. 


THE  TRAGEDY  DEEPENS  151 

"You  have  an  excellent  man  in  Herriard,"  Sir  Per- 
rott  Aspall  had  remarked  encouragingly. 

"Could  n't  have  a  better, "  Baron  de  Daun  had  agreed. 
"Quite  the  best  man  at  the  Bar  for  that  sort  of  case, 
since  Paul  Gastineau. " 

"By  the  way,"  another  man  of  the  group  broke  in, 
"talking  of  Gastineau,  an  extraordinary  thing  happened 
to  me  the  other  evening.  As  I  was  walking  across  the 
Green  Park  a  man  passed  me  whom  I  could  have  sworn 
was  Paul  Gastineau. " 

"What,  the  Paul  Gastineau?  "  Sir  Perrott  asked,  with 
a  smile  of  toleration  for  another  man's  stupidity. 

"The  Paul  Gastineau,"  the  other  maintained.  "The 
K.C.  Member  for  Starbury.  I  knew  him  well." 

"But,"  Sir  Perrott  objected,  with  all  the  superiority 
which  disbelief  in  the  obviously  impossible  confers, 
"Paul  Gastineau,  the  K.C.,  and  all  that,  was  killed 
some  years  ago  in  a  railway  accident  in  Spain." 

"Yes,"  retorted  the  other;  "that  is  just  what  made 
my  seeing  him  in  the  Green  Park  so  extraordinary. " 


CHAPTER  XV 

A  HALF -WON  VICTORY 

DEPRIVED  of  its  promised  dramatic  sensation  scene, 
the  trial  which  came  on  in  the  next  week  was,  being 
mere  repetition  of  what  had  been  heard  before,  to  all 
but  the  interested  parties,  a  comparatively  tame  affair. 
By  tacit  consent  the  case  was  not  mentioned  again  be- 
tween Gastineau  and  Herriard.  There  were  one  or  two 
points  on  which  Geoffrey  would  have  liked  his  mentor's 
advice,  but  he  forebore  to  ask  it;  and,  on  the  whole, 
was  well  content,  save  for  the  responsibility  of  Alexia's 
reputation  which  was  in  his  hands,  to  take  for  once  the 
whole  burden  of  a  big  case  on  his  shoulders. 

He  was  nervous,  more  nervous  than  he  had  ever 
been  before,  but  that  was  to  be  accounted  for  by  other 
than  professional  reasons.  Victory,  he  felt,  would  mean 
everything  to  him:  yet  there  were  moments  when  he 
could  almost  wish  for  defeat.  It  was  something,  how- 
ever, to  think  that  if  he  won,  it  would  be  by  his  own 
unaided  conduct  of  the  case,  and  somehow  he  felt  that 
he  would  not  care  for  Gastineau  to  have  a  hand  in  the 
victory. 

Countess  Alexia  repeated  her  denial  of  all  knowledge 
of  how  Captain  Martindale  came  by  his  death  with  un- 
swerving, convincing  straightforwardness:  the  Duke  of 
Lancashire  had  his  uncomfortable  quarter  of  an  hour 
in  the  witness-box,  but  got  off  with  less  ridicule  than 
might  have  been  expected,  although  with  a  by  no  means 

152 


A  HALF-WON  VICTORY  153 

modified  conviction  that  persons  of  his  class  should  be 
by  law  exempt  from  such  appearances,  or  at  least  from 
cross-examination.  The  truculent  and  uncompromising 
Macvee  made  a  fiercely  argumentative  appeal  to  com- 
mon sense  on  behalf  of  his  clients;  Herriard  an  equally 
logical  and  more  chivalrously  passionate  speech  for  the 
Countess,  who  was  the  real  defendant,  and  at  the  end 
of  a  two  days'  trial,  after  an  ominously  long  deliberation, 
the  jury  brought  in  a  verdict  of  guilty  against  the  pec- 
cant editors  who  were  duly  mulcted  in  heavy  fines,  and 
one,  the  worst  offender,  to  a  short  term  of  imprison- 
ment. 

So  the  victory  was  gained;  the  popular  appetite, 
which  was  getting  rather  tired  of  the  food,  was  satisfied; 
yet,  somehow,  there  seemed,  after  all,  to  be  a  cloud  over 
it  in  place  of  the  glorious  sunshine  there  should  have 
been.  This  feeling  was  borne  uncomfortably  in  upon 
Geoffrey  Herriard  as  he  went  back  to  his  chambers  in 
the  Temple.  There  was  joy  in  his  heart:  he  could  still 
feel  in  his  own  the  grateful — might  he  not  now  think 
loving? — pressure  of  Alexia's  hand  when  he  had  con- 
gratulated her  and  received  for  a  reward  a  look  that 
told  him  his  happiness  was  assured.  Yet,  underneath 
all  this  elation,  there  lurked  the  thought  that  it  was  an 
unsatisfactory  victory.  Doubt,  that  terrible  doubt,  that 
hateful  bugbear,  had  not  been,  as  he  had  hoped,  utterly 
and  finally  annihilated.  The  verdict  had  seemed  half- 
hearted, as  though  gained  by  sympathy  against  men's 
harder  judgment.  Campion's  testimony  was,  so  to 
speak,  in  the  air;  but  it  had  not  been  admitted,  for 
there  had  been  no  time  between  his  wounding  and  his 
death  to  find  a  magistrate  to  take  his  depositions. 

Macvee  had  rather  curled  his  lip  at  the  lagging  ver- 


154  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

diet.  "What  you  people  had  better  do  now,"  he  had 
said  gruffly  to  Herriard  as  they  gathered  up  their  briefs, 
"is  to  move  heaven  and  earth  to  find  out  who  did  kill 
Martindale.  A  pity  for  all  parties  Campion  came  to 
an  untimely  end;  I  should  dearly  like  to  have  had  him 
in  that  box. " 

"It  is  just  as  well  for  your  client's  liberty  and  pockets 
you  hadn't,"  Herriard  had  retorted,  with  a  laugh. 
"The  man  and  his  evidence  were  absolutely  genuine." 

"They  all  are — in  the  solicitor's  office,"  came  the 
cynical  reply.  "Anyhow,  I  should  have  liked  to  try  a 
touch  of  the  acid — the  lingua  fortis — eh?  " 

There  are  men  with  whom  it  is  as  futile  to  argue  as 
to  reason  with  a  drunkard;  men  whose  logic  is  a  sneer 
or  a  shout,  whose  axioms  are  adaptable  to  their  line  of 
argument,  whose  postulates  are  taken  for  granted,  and 
whose  conclusions  consist,  fittingly,  in  having  the  last 
word. 

Mr.  Macvee  went  off  with  a  self-satisfied  nod,  strong 
in  the  assumption  that  Campion's  death  was  a  piece  of 
bad  luck  for  him,  and,  indeed,  had  lost  him  his  case. 
Herriard,  when  he  had  congratulated  and  taken  leave 
of  Countess  Alexia  and  her  brother,  left  the  Courts  with 
his  mind  full  of  the  situation's  perplexity. 

"We  must  not  rest  till  Martindale's  murderer  is 
found,"  he  said  seriously  to  Mr.  Bowyer,  the  solicitor, 
who,  with  his  dapper  managing  clerk,  was  waiting  for 
him  in  the  corridor. 

Old  John  Bowyer  pursed  his  lips.  He  was  eminent 
and  highly  respectable  in  his  line,  and  his  line  was  not 
the  hunting  down  of  criminals. 

"You  think  the  result  inconclusive,  Mr.  Herriard?  " 
asked  Mr.  Lee-Barker,  the  managing  clerk,  in  a  tone 


A  HALF-WON  VICTORY  155 

wherein  professional  deference  to  counsel's  opinion 
hardly  suggested  that  he  had  not  one  of  his  own. 

"It  must  be  inconclusive,"  Herriard  replied  emphati- 
cally. "We  have  won  our  case;  so  far  Countess  Alexia's 
reputation  is  cleared — legally.  But  she  can  hardly  be 
quite  satisfied  with  that." 

"Quite  so,"  observed  Mr,  Bowyer,  in  his  habitual 
tone  of  non-committal. 

"The  villian  of  the  piece  must  be  unmasked,"  chimed 
in  Mr.  Lee-Barker  pleasantly.  He  had  had  the  work- 
ing-up  of  the  case,  and  was  duly  pleased  with  himself, 
without  being  in  any  violent  hurry  to  pursue  it  farther. 
Sufficient  unto  the  day,  he  told  himself,  is  the  verdict 
thereof;  at  least,  when  that  verdict  is  favourable. 

"Yes,"  pursued  Herriard  earnestly,  "he  must  be 
found,  and  without  loss  of  time. " 

Mr.  Lee-Barker  wondered  why  in  the  world  a  counsel 
of  Herriard's  standing  and  ability  should  be  so  keen 
outside  his  brief.  A  smart  little  man  was  Mr.  Lee- 
Barker,  with  an  enviable  reputation  in  certain  circles 
in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields  and  Surbiton,  where  he  lived; 
and  he  believed  in  smartness  as  a  paying  quality,  but 
not  in  Quixotism  or  works  of  supererogation.  So  he 
merely  smiled,  as  deprecating  zeal  without  instructions, 
and  glanced  at  his  chief  with  a  suggestion  of  getting 
back  to  the  office. 

"Quite  so,"  old  Bowyer  assented  to  Herriard's  ur- 
gency: "but  it  is  rather  a  matter  for  Scotland  Yard, 
is  it  not,  Mr.  Herriard?  " 

"No  doubt,"  Geoffrey  answered.  "But  they  ought 
to  be  kept  up  to  the  mark. " 

"We  can  scarcely  move  in  the  matter  in  the  absence 
of  instructions,"  put  in  Mr.  Lee-Barker,  tempering  his 


156  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

impatience  with  the  deference  due  to  an  eminent  verdict- 
gaining  counsel. 

"No,  I  suppose  not,"  Herriard  returned,  with  a  touch 
of  impatience.  "I  will  speak  to  Count  von  Rohnburg. " 

In  his  chambers  Herriard  threw  off  his  wig  and  gown, 
and  sat  down  to  review  the  position;  Alexia's  position, 
which  was  now,  he  told  himself  with  joy,  his  own.  He 
was  impatient  to  claim  his  reward;  not,  indeed,  reward, 
since  his  victory  was  its  own  recompense,  but  the  ful- 
filment of  Alexia's  implied  promise,  now  that  the  dark 
cloud  was  driven  away,  that  she  would  accept  his  love. 
But  he  could  scarcely  present  himself  before  her  just 
then;  justifiable  as  his  eagerness  might  be,  it  would  not. 
be  decent.  So  that  evening  he  must  not  go  to  Green 
Street;  he  must  nurse  his  impatience:  there  was  a  busy 
night  in  the  House  of  Commons,  he  would  spend  the 
hours  there. 

And  Gastineau?  The  thought  of  his  friend  rose,  for 
the  first  time  during  their  acquaintance,  uncomfortably 
to  his  mind.  In  the  ordinary  course  he  would  have 
called  at  the  hidden-away  house  in  May  fair  first  of  all 
to  report  his  victory.  But  to-day  he  could  not  bring 
himself  to  do  it.  He  was  conscious  of  a  feeling,  the 
extent  of  which  he  could  not  measure,  which  seemed 
to  hold  him  back.  There  would  be  no  pleasure,  but 
distaste  rather,  in  going  to  Gastineau's  that  afternoon. 
Why?  His  friend  was  unsympathetic,  they  were  at 
issue  about  the  case:  he  had  won  it  practically  without 
Gastineau's  assistance,  and  he  might  feel  a  little  awk- 
wardly conscious  on  that  score.  The  subject  had  been 
dropped  between  them;  still,  Herriard  could  hardly  ig- 
nore the  result,  and  had  no  wish  to  proclaim  it.  Gas- 
tineau's was  the  acuter  mind,  the  stronger  will;  he  had 


A  HALF-WON  VICTORY  157 

taught  Herriard  almost  everything  by  which  he  had 
profited,  and  had  imparted — that  by  force  of  genius — 
the  knack  of  success.  To  the  younger  man  their  re- 
lations were,  and  probably  would  always  be,  those  of 
master  and  pupil:  the  stronger  will,  the  greater  deter- 
mination would  always  stand  over  the  weaker.  It  was, 
perhaps,  the  sign  of  a  certain  weakness  in  Herriard 's 
character  that  he  shrank  from  meeting  Gastineau  that 
afternoon.  A  stronger  man  would  have  gone;  Herriard 
kept  telling  himself  that  he  ought  not  to  make  an  ex- 
ception on  that  of  all  days;  and  then  he  objected  that 
he  would  not  go  because  Gastineau  had  practically  de- 
clared his  belief  in  Alexia's  guilt.  It  would  have  been 
better  for  him,  perhaps,  had  he  gone;  however,  a  certain 
self-consciousness  and  resentment  kept  him  away,  and 
thereby  he  forged  a  weapon  against  himself. 

In  an  unsettled  state  of  mind  he  set  himself  to  gather 
up  and  put  away  the  papers  connected  with  the  case. 
Among  them  was  a  note  he  had  taken  of  Campion's  last 
words,  his  description  of  the  man  he  had  seen  in  the 
hansom.  "I  could  swear,"  it  ran,  "that  he  was  the 
same  man  I  saw  jumping  from  the  window  at  Vaux 
House  when  Captain  Martindale  was  killed.  A  dark 
man,  with  a  pale  face  and  piercing  eyes,  clean-shaven, 
and  with  straight  black  hair  worn  rather  long.  He 
looked  like  a  foreigner." 

So  much  Campion  had  told. 

That  was  all.  And  the  great  question  now  remained, 
who  was  the  man?  The  description  was  definite  enough; 
nevertheless  the  police  had  come  across  no  such  person; 
they  were  completely  at  a  loss  now,  for  the  suspect,  so 
fully  described,  had  absolutely  vanished.  Herriard 
feared  that  Scotland  Yard  might,  when  baffled,  relax 


158  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

its  efforts;  to  clear  Countess  Alexia,  rather  than  to  bring 
the  unknown  to  justice,  it  was  all-important  to  him  that 
they  should  not. 

He  folded  the  note  of  Campion's  statement  into  his 
pocket-book,  and,  on  his  way  to  the  House,  called  upon 
the  Chief  Commissioner,  whom  he  knew,  and  urged  him 
to  keep  his  men  up  to  the  mark  in  the  hunt,  and  this, 
the  official  readily  assured  him,  should  be  done. 

Next  day  Herriard  received  an  invitation  to  dine  that 
evening  at  Green  Street;  he  accepted  it  with  elation, 
in  happy  anticipation  of  the  sealing  of  his  betrothal. 
On  his  way  he  called  at  Gastineau's. 

Luckily  there  were  several  other  matters  to  speak  of 
before  the  awkward  subject  was  touched  upon.  Her- 
riard could  not  help  noticing  that  his  friend  seemed 
strangely  indifferent,  giving  points  of  advice  and  direc- 
tion almost  mechanically;  over  the  whole  consultation 
there  was  an  air  of  unreality,  of  insincerity.  This  Her- 
riard was  inclined,  somewhat,  perhaps,  against  his  acuter 
judgment,  to  put  down  to  the  other's  state  of  health. 
Presently  he  asked  Gastineau  if  he  were  suffering. 

"Oh,  no;  not  particularly,"  was  the  answer,  given 
with  an  enigmatical  smile,  "I  am  as  well  as  I  can  ever 
expect  to  be."  Then,  with  a  swift  change,  "Where  are 
you  dining  to-night?  " 

"At  Green  Street,  with  the  von  Rohnburgs,"  Her- 
riard answered,  as  casually  as  he  could. 

"Ah!  So  you  won  your  case  yesterday."  The  pen- 
etrating eyes  were  upon  him  with  their  snake-like  glitter. 
Herriard  saw,  but  did  not  meet  them. 

"Yes;  as  you  predicted." 

"Did  I?  Ah,  yes.  You  see  you  did  not  lose  much 
by  Campion's  disappearance  from  the  scene." 


A  HALF-WON  VICTORY  159 

"I  am  inclined  to  think  we  did,"  Herriard  replied. 
"We  just  got  our  verdict,  and  I  fancy  that  was  all." 

"H'm!  "  Gastineau  shut  his  thin  lips  significantly. 
"Perhaps  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at.  You  did  not 
bring  me  the  news  after  Court  yesterday." 

Herriard  turned  now  and  faced  the  question  which 
lay  beneath  the  reproach.  "For  two  reasons,"  he  re- 
plied boldly.  "One,  I  had  to  hurry  off  to  the  House, 
and  was  kept  there.  The  Government  were  in  a  bad 
way,  and  the  opportunity  had  to  be  made  the  most  of. " 

"Quite  right,"  Gastineau  agreed.  "And  reason  num- 
ber two?  Forgive  my  curiosity,  but  you  mentioned  a 
second. " 

"Reason  number  two,"  Herriard  answered,  with  a 
short  laugh,  "was  that  I  did  not  think  you  took  a  very 
devouring  interest  in  the  case." 

"Why,  my  dear  fellow?  Why  should  you  think  that? 
On  the  contrary,  I  have  taken  great  interest  in  it." 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  Herriard,  "our  interests  were 
not  the  same."  For  an  instant  Gastineau  looked  at 
him  searchingly,  almost  defiantly;  then  he  laughed,  as 
he  rejoined,  "My  dear  Geof,  interest  is  an  equivocal 
word.  Beyond  a  professional  attraction  my  only  in- 
terest is  your  success  and  advancement.  In  this  case 
I  happen  to  hold  a  different  opinion  from  yours,  but 
surely  that  need  not  lessen  my  interest." 

Herriard  put  back  the  thought,  still  it  had  risen  to 
his  mind  that  Gastineau's  speech  was  not  quite  genuine. 
The  words,  graceful  enough  in  themselves,  relating  to 
his  interest  in  his  pupil's  advancement  were  glibly 
and  perfunctorily  spoken;  an  insincere  formula,  like 
a  doctor's  expression  of  sorrow  at  a  patient's  ill-health. 

"Anyhow,"  he  said,  "I  was  not  particularly  elated  at 


160  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

what  might  be  considered  a  grudging  verdict,  and  as  I 
had  no  other  news  it  did  not  seem  very  vital  to  hurry 
to  bring  you  that. " 

"I  see,"  Gastineau  responded  coldly,  his  manner 
plainly  showing  he  hardly  accepted  the  excuse  as  valid. 
"So  you  are  going  to  dine  with  the  Countess.  I  hope, 
my  dear  boy,  you  are  not  really  becoming  e'pris  in  that 
quarter. " 

"I  dare  say  I  am,"  Herriard  replied  quietly.  "But 
then  I  hold  a  different  opinion  of  her  from  yours. " 

Gastineau  lay  very  still,  and  his  face  was  white, 
deadly  white.  "You  will  regret  it,"  he  said,  just  mov- 
ing his  lips,  in  the  absence  or  repression  of  all  feeling; 
Herriard  could  not  be  sure  which. 

"I  think  not;  I  am  sure  I  shall  never  regret  it,"  he 
returned,  with  conviction. 

"And  I,"  Gastineau  rejoined,  in  a  stronger  but  still 
hard,  passionless  tone,  "am  as  absolutely  convinced 
that  you  will. " 

Herriard  took  a  step  toward  him,  holding  out  his 
hand  "I  had  better  say  good-night.  We  do  not  seem 
likely  to  agree  on  this,  and  we  must  not  quarrel." 

Gastineau  raised  a  listless  hand.  "Good-night,"  he 
responded,  with  a  brooding  significance.  "You  will  go 
on  your  own  way,  then;  but  I  have  warned  you." 

A  light  of  vague,  horrible  suspicion  came  into  Her- 
riard's  eyes. 

"Gastineau,"  he  exclaimed,  "do  you  know  any  real 
reason  why  I — I  should  take  your  warning?  " 

Gastineau  had  drawn  his  hand  away  sharply.  "  Noth- 
ing in  the  past,"  he  answered,  "nothing  for  certain,  at 
any  rate.  My  only  reason  is  my  absolute  certainty  that 
you  will  repent  this  step  if  you  take  it." 


A  HALF-WON  VICTORY  161 

"Why  should  I?  "  Herriard  demanded. 

"That  I  cannot  tell  you.  It  will  appear  soon  enough." 
there  seemed  almost  a  threat  behind  the  words. 

"I  will  take  my  chance  of  that,"  Herriard  said,  turn- 
ing to  go. 

Gastineau's  voice,  sharp  to  peremptoriness,  stayed 
him.  "You  are  going  to  marry  the  Countess  Alexia?  " 

"I  think  so." 

"Think  so?    You  are  engaged?  " 

"Hardly.  But  I  hope  to  be  to-night."  Then  to 
soften  the  tone  of  their  leave-taking  he  added,  "I  am 
sorry  I  cannot  expect  your  good  wishes." 

Gastineau's  face  seemed  set  hard  as  a  dead  man's. 
"They  could  not  be  genuine,"  he  replied  in  a  cold,  in- 
cisive tone.  "The  best  wish  would  be  that  this  folly 
may  come  to  nothing.  And  I  think  it  will." 

Herriard  saw  the  futility  of  saying  more,  so,  with 
just  a  glance  at  the  grey  face,  cruel  in  its  rigidity,  he 
left  him. 


11 


CHAPTER  XVI 

NEAEING   A   CRISIS 

MR.  HERRIARD,  you  are  not  satisfied?  " 
"No,  Countess;  not  altogether." 

"What  better  result  could  you  have  hoped  for?  " 

"None,  so  far  as  the  trial  went.  But,  for  your  sake, 
I  shall  never  rest  satisfied  till  the  mystery  of  this  case 
has  been  incontestably  solved. " 

They  were  sitting  together  in  the  drawing-room; 
Count  Prosper  and  an  Austrian  girl,  who  was  on  a 
visit  to  England  and  had  completed  the  partie  carree, 
were  at  the  piano  in  the  room  beyond. 

"The  obvious  solution,"  Alexia  said,  "is  the  man 
whom  that  poor  fellow,  Campion,  saw  getting  out  of  the 
window. " 

"Undoubtedly.     But  we  must  find  him." 

"Ah!    That  will  be  difficult?  " 

"Probably.  The  police  are  more  or  less  at  sea  in 
a  case  like  this  where  the  man  wanted  is  of  high  social 
standing,  high  enough,  that  is,  to  be  a  guest  at  Vaux 
House.  I  appreciate  their  difficulties,  but  do  not  mean 
to  let  them  drop  the  search.  I  saw  Sir  Henry  Ferrars 
about  it  yesterday." 

"How  good  you  are,"  she  said,  "to  take  all  this 
trouble  for  me." 

"For  you?  "  He  bent  forward.  "Could  I  do  other- 
wise? Have  I  not  the  best  of  reasons?  " 

162 


HEARING  A  CRISIS  163 

"I  don't  know,"  she  replied,  perhaps  because  she 
had  to  say  something. 

"You  might  know  if  you  cared,  Countess,"  he  said 
in  a  low  voice.  "  And  you  might  tell  me.  I  have  been 
happy  in  the  thought  of  your  promise. " 

"My  promise?  How  well  Fraulein  von  Hochstadt 
plays. " 

"I  cannot  hear  her,"  he  replied,  in  a  passionate 
whisper,  "when  I  have  your  voice  to  listen  to." 

Alexia  laughed.  Her  implied  promise  and  her  own 
happiness  disarmed  her.  She  could  but  temporize  with 
the  surrender  which  was  not  to  be  refused. 

"My  voice?  You  will  shame  me  into  silence  if  it 
prevents  your  listening  to  the  loveliest  thing  Tchaikov- 
sky ever  wrote. " 

"There  are,"  he  returned,  "times  when  even  the 
genius  of  music  must  go  unheeded. " 

"In  competition  with  the  human  voice?  " 

"Not  the  voice  alone,  but  the  words  we  long  for  the 
voice  to  speak.  Alexia,"  he  took  her  hand,  and  to  his 
joy  she  let  it  rest  in  his,  "has  the  time  come?  " 

"The  golden  day,  when  the  cloud  should  have  passed 
over  and  I  be  a  free  woman?  Yes;  thanks  to  you,  it 
has  come." 

"And  for  me?  " 

Her  silence  was  of  consent,  not  doubt;  at  its  end  she 
softly  raised  her  eyes  till  they  met  his,  and  in  that 
glance,  a  beam  that  seemed  to  hold  an  eternity  of 
happiness,  he  saw  that  he  was  loved.  The  enchaining 
melody  of  the  great  Russian  master  rose  and  thrilled 
under  the  passionate  touch  of  the  girl  at  the  piano;  it 
mingled  with  the  perfume  of  Alexia 's  hair,  as  Herriard 
bent  over  her  and  pressed  his  lips  to  her  cheek.  It  was 


164  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

but  a  snatched  kiss,  for  they  were  half  in  sight  of  the 
other  two,  but  it  was  not  to  be  resisted. 

Alexia  put  up  her  hand  in  half-earnest  warning. 
"Mr.  Herriard!  Geoffrey!  You  will  be  seen.  Will 
you  never  learn  to  be  opportune?  " 

"Never  with  you,  darling,"  he  answered. 

"I  think  you  will,"  she  rejoined,  with  a  look  and  a 
smile  which  tempted  him  to  throw  prudence  to  the 
winds.  "  I  must  teach  you. " 

So  he  sat  by  her  more  circumspectly,  engrossed  in 
lovers'  talk.  Sometimes  the  thought  of  his  shame,  of 
his  false  position,  would  seem  to  force  itself  between 
him  and  his  love,  there,  where  no  shame  should  exist, 
but  the  delight  of  the  present  hour  stifled  each  pang  of 
self-reproach  as  soon  as  it  was  born  within  him.  In  the 
intoxication  of  his  love  what  mind  could  he  have  for  sober 
scruples?  In  that  hour  of  joy  it  was  the  delight  of  the 
present  and  future  that  held  him;  his  past  life  with  its 
frown  could  but  be  disregarded.  Looking  at  the  rare 
woman  by  his  side,  enthralled  by  the  spell  of  her  beauty, 
above  all,  by  the  charm  of  her  irresistibly  fascinating 
personality,  he  was  not  likely  to  allow  the  chilling 
spectre  of  his  deceit  to  stand  between  them.  All  he 
could  do  was  to  look  at  his  love  and  marvel  at  his  good 
fortune. 

"I  cannot  understand,"  he  said,  with  more  candour 
than  tact,  following  out  the  thought  that  was  upper- 
most in  his  mind,  "how  this  good  fortune  has  been 
reserved  for  me." 

She  glanced  at  him  with  a  little  smiling  criticism  of 
his  remark. 

"Is  it  worth  while  enquiring  too  curiously  into  that?  " 
she  returned.  "  Perhaps  the  good  fortune — I  take  your 


NEARING  A  CRISIS  165 

expression — has  been  reserved  for  the  man  who  should 
deserve  it. " 

"I  can  never,"  he  replied  deprecatingly,  "do  more 
than  try  to  be  worthy  of  it.  "But,"  he  continued,  "I 
was  thinking,  not  of  myself,  but  of  the  many  men  who 
must  have  been  in  love  with  you." 

She  laughed.  "A  very  complimentary  way,  sir,  of 
alluding  to  the  delicate  subject  of  my  age." 

"No,  no,"  he  protested.  "Alexia,  we  are  neither  of 
us  children 

"And  our  ages  are  quite  suitable,"  she  bantered. 

"  Dearest,"  he  laid  his  hand  on  her  arm  with  a  caressing 
clasp  of  restraint,  "you  know  I  am  not  alluding  to  age. " 

"I  suppose,"  she  went  on,  still  fencing,  "you  have 
now  a  right  to  know  mine;  honestly,  eight-and-twenty. " 

"That  gives,"  he  said,  "at  least  eight  years  of  ad- 
mirers. " 

She  gave  a  little  sigh,  and  he  thought  he  understood 
why  she  had  trifled  with  his  question.  "Ah,  yes." 

"And,  tell  me,  Alexia,  you  have  never  returned  the 
love  of  one  of  them — till  now?  " 

She  gave  a  little  shrug.     "  Never,  I  suppose,  till  now. " 

The  last  two  words  were  almost  whispered,  but  he 
caught  their  thrill. 

"My  dear  Geoffrey,"  she  continued,  changing  her 
tone,  "you  know  the  world,  and  that  there  are  no  exact 
rules  for  judging  men,  let  alone  women.  With  some 
of  us  love  is  a  very  ordinary  and  regularly  recurring 
episode;  a  love-affair  is  like  a  new  gown,  an  agreeable 
anticipation  in  the  progress  of  its  making,  a  shallow 
joy  when  it  is  new  and  novel,  a  waning  interest  as  it 
wears  out,  and  at  last  just  kept  on  till  its  successor  is 
ready.  To  others,"  she  sank  her  voice,  "love  is  fate." 


166  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

He  took  her  hand.  "Ours  has  come  at  last.  May 
it  be  a  happy  one.  But  I  should  have  thought  that 
love,  if  not  fate,  had  come  to  you  before. " 

Alexia  smiled.  "Why  should  you  think  so?  Is  it 
inconceivable  that  a  woman  should  not  fall  in  love  be- 
fore she  is — twenty-eight?  " 

"With  you,"  he  answered,  "it  is  almost  incredible. 
Still  I  did  not  draw  my  conclusions  from  that,  but 
rather  from  your  manner  when  I  asked  the  question." 

"My  manner?    Was  it  betraying?  " 

"It  seemed  to  suggest  an  arriere  pensec." 

She  laughed  "Of  earlier  blighted  affections.  Hardly 
complimentary  to  you.  No,"  she  added,  more  seri- 
ously, "I  have  never  been  in  love — till  now." 

"Then  your  sigh  was  the  outcome  of  another  regret; 
not,  I  hope,  that  love — and  fate — had  overtaken  you 
at  last?  " 

"No,  Geoffrey,  not  that.  You  pay  us  both  a  poor 
compliment."  She  was  speaking  half  dreamily,  and 
her  voice  seemed  to  take  its  tone  from  and  blend  with 
the  subdued  melody  of  the  andantino  that  came  from 
the  inner  room.  "What  there  may  be  to  regret  comes 
from  others,  from  outside. " 

"From  men  who  have  loved  you?  " 

She  made  an  inclination  of  assent. 

"A  man  little  thinks  how  painful,  how  hateful  his 
persistence  is  to  a  woman  who  cannot  care  for  him." 

"Men  are  most  selfish  in  love,"  Herriard  said. 

"Selfish  and  unreasonable,"  she  supplemented;  "some, 
at  least.  They  look  upon  a  woman  as  a  besieged  town, 
which,  refusing  to  surrender,  must  be  taken  by  assault 
or  battered  to  destruction." 

She  spoke  so  feelingly  that  the  indignant  blood  surged 


NEARING  A  CRISIS  167 

in  Herriard's  veins.  "Alexia,  you  have  been  perse- 
cuted? Tell  me:  you  must." 

"It  is  needless,"  she  replied,  "since  it  is  all  over 
now. " 

"Ah,  you  mean  that  man,  Martindale?    He 

She  shook  her  head.  "No;  not  poor  Captain  Mar- 
tindale. He  was  tiresome,  and,  perhaps,  something 
worse.  But  women  had  spoilt  him  and  made  him  what 
I  knew  him." 

"Alexia,"  he  urged,  in  the  ardor  of  his  new  rela- 
tionship. "Tell  me.  I  hate  to  think  that  you  have 
suffered  at  a  man's  hands;  I  must  know." 

"It  is  not  worth  while,"  she  replied,  with  a  little  rem- 
iniscent shudder.  "It  is  nothing  more  than  the  perse- 
cution of  a  man  who  had  more  determination  than 
chivalry.  But  he  is  dead." 

"Lately  dead?  " 

"No;  some  years  ago." 

"Tell  me  his  name." 

"You  would  know  it.  He  was  a  distinguished  mem- 
ber of  your  profession."  She  paused,  as  though  debat- 
ing with  herself  whether  she  should  tell  more. 

"Did  you  ever  know,"  she  asked  at  length,  "did  you 
ever  know  Paul  Gastineau?  " 

Simultaneously  with  the  pronouncing  of  the  name, 
by  a  curious,  but  not  uncommon  prescience,  the  image 
of  Gastineau  had  started  up  in  Herriard's  mind,  and  he 
had  known  intuitively  that  no  other  name  would  be 
spoken. 

Paul  Gastineau!  He!  That  he  of  all  men  should 
have  been  in  love  with  her.  And  he  had  persecuted 
her,  evidently  with  such  determination  as  to  leave  a 
very  bitter  memory,  enough  to  compel  a  shudder  when 


168  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

it  came  to  her  mind.  It  was  all  plain  now.  Gasti- 
neau's  spite  was  still  keenly  alive;  love  had  turned  to 
hate.  It  was  hate.  Herriard  knew  it  now,  that  had 
gleamed  in  Gastineau's  eyes  when  they  had  spoken  of 
Alexia.  In  the  same  instant  a  great  feeling  of  relief,  of 
joy  almost,  came  to  Herriard  in  the  knowledge  that  the 
other  man's  judgment  of  the  case  had  been  wilfully 
false.  Not  another  doubt  of  Alexia's  innocence  could 
ever  cross  his  mind  now  that  he  had  found  the  opinion 
of  the  acuter  brain  was  warped  and  worthless,  a  mere 
slander. 

But  what  of  the  man  who,  for  his  own  vindictive 
purpose,  had  tried  to  poison  his  mind  against  the 
woman  he  loved?  Even  across  that  dark  thought 
there  streamed  a  ray  of  light.  Their  connection,  the 
equivocal  nature  of  which  had  of  late  galled  him,  must 
now  be  severed.  The  reason,  the  excuse  was  apt:  and 
he,  Geoffrey  Herriard,  would  be  a  free  man  again,  to 
stand  or  fall  by  his  own  abilities.  That  his  marriage 
would  make  imperative;  after  this  disclosure  the  break 
would  be  less  painful;  by  it  he  would  be  absolved  from 
ingratitude  towards  the  man  who  had  chosen  to  exploit 
his  fortunes. 

"He  is  dead,"  Alexia  had  said,  with  a  suggestion  of 
relief;  and  Paul  Gastineau  was  indeed  dead  to  all  the 
world  save  himself  and  Geoffrey  Herriard.  Could  he 
come  to  life  again — Herriard  did  not  care  to  imagine  the 
contingency  except  on  its  impossible  side.  It  seemed 
heartlessly,  cruelly  ungrateful,  but  he  could  not  help  a 
feeling  of  subdued  satisfaction  at  the  thought  that  Dr. 
Hallamar  the  one  man  in  Europe  who  might  have  cured 
him,  had  declared  his  case  hopeless. 

All  this  passed  swiftly  through  Herriard 's  mind  as  he 


NEARING  A  CRISIS  169 

sat  startled  into  the  silence  of  intense,  almost  bewilder- 
ing thought. 

"Geoffrey,  what  are  you  thinking  of?  " 

The  words,  spoken  with  laughing  concern,  roused  him 
to  see  Alexia's  grey  eyes  fixed  on  him  with  perhaps  a 
suspicion  of  anxiety  beneath  the  look  of  enquiry. 

"I  was  wondering,"  he  answered,  "what  manner  of 
man  it  could  be  who  had  the  spite  to  persecute  you, 
dearest. " 

The  animation  seemed  to  fade  from  her  face  again. 
"You  may  wonder,"  she  replied.  "The  man  was 
well  known,  although,  I  dare  say,  few  who  knew  him 
guessed  what  lay  beneath  the  surface  of  his  character. 
I  would  rather  you  asked  some  one  else  than  me  to 
describe  him,  if  you  are  curious  to  revive  a  memory 
which  were  better  left  to  rest. " 

The  words  seemed  to  stab  Herriard.  Who  in  the 
world  knew  Gastineau  better  than  he?  Like  accusing 
spirits  there  now  rose  to  his  mind  the  quasi  dead  fighter's 
vindictive  attacks  on  men  he  had  hated  and  envied, 
of  which  he,  Geoffrey  Herriard,  poor  tool,  had  been  the 
mouthpiece;  the  venomous  stinging  thrusts  he  had  been 
taught  to  deliver  so  deftly;  the  terrible,  transcendent 
irony  and  sarcasm  into  which  he  had  been  coached  with 
such  untiring  pains.  Why  should  a  man  who  had,  by 
a  strange  combination  of  accident  and  choice,  taken 
leave  of  the  world,  why  should  he  retain  and  revel  in 
all  this  eager  vindictiveness,  except  that  his  soul  was 
black  as  sin?  Gastineau  was  a  very  lago;  a  malicious 
spirit  that  could  not  rest  under  the  idea  of  denial  or 
disappointment,  but  must  work  for  the  compensating 
delight  of  other  men's  discomfiture. 

It  was  terrible;  more  terrible  still,  it  seemed,  in  that 


170  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

atmosphere  of  love  and  nobleness,  where  vice  looked 
by  contrast  the  more  hideous;  and  he,  Geoffrey  Her- 
riard,  sitting  there,  with  that  pure  hand  in  his,  breath- 
ing the  very  air  of  love  and  chivalrous  devotion,  had 
been,  and,  indeed,  was  still,  the  partner,  the  abettor  of 
this  son  of  evil.  The  very  idea  maddened  him.  He 
recalled  the  look  of  Gastineau's  face  as  he  had  last  seen 
it  that  evening;  grey,  set  with  hate  and,  so  far,  impo- 
tent vindictiveness.  He  did  not  like  to  contemplate 
the  picture,  and,  to  veil  it,  he  turned  to  Alexia  with  the 
eagerness  of  a  man  escaping  from  a  disquieting  thought. 

But  she  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence.  "Does 
your  fate  sadden  you?  "  she  asked,  with  a  little  uncer- 
tain smile. 

"My  fate?  No;  certainly  not  my  future,"  he  an- 
swered. 

"At  least  it  makes  you  silent.  You  need  not  say 
you  were  listening  to  the  music,"  she  added  banter- 
ingly,  "for  I  don't  believe  you  heard  a  note  of  it." 

Her  woman's  instinct  was  right;  happily,  he  thought, 
there  were  limits  to  it.  What  if  she  could  have  divined 
all  his  thoughts  just  then! 

"Forgive  me,  darling,"  he  replied.  "What  you  told 
me  led  my  thoughts  to  ramble  among  dark  ways.  It 
is  as  well  to  explore,  and  then  have  done  with  them 
for  ever.  Now  I  am  in  the  sunshine  again." 

The  music  had  come  to  an  end.  Count  Prosper  and 
the  player  joined  them. 

"I  can  honestly  say  I  never  enjoyed  music  so  much 
before,"  Herriard  said,  in  the  midst  of  their  thanks. 
"Did  you,  Countess?  "  he  asked  meaningly,  and  Alexia 
was  forced  to  say,  "Never." 

Soon  the  Austrian  girl  took  her  leave.     When  Count 


NEARING  A  CRISIS  171 

Prosper  returned  from  seeing  her  to  her  carriage,  he  was 
full  of  enthusiasm  over  her  performance.  "I  never 
heard  playing  that  gave  me  as  much  delight,"  he  said, 
with  a  touch  of  foreign  exuberance. 

"I  never  shall,"  Herriard  observed  quietly. 

Prosper  gave  him  an  enquiring  glance ;  Herriard  looked 
at  Alexia  and  laughed.  "May  I  explain?  "  he  asked. 

Prosper  laughed  too,  a  little  mystified.     "Please  do." 

"Fraulein  von  Hochstadt's  playing  had  an  added  de- 
light for  me,"  Herriard  said,  his  laugh  giving  way  to  a 
little  tremor  of  feeling,  "since  under  cover  of  the  music 
Countess  Alexia  did  me  the  honour  to  promise  to  be 
my  wife." 

"Ah!  "  It  seemed  not  altogether  unexpected  by  her 
brother,  and  Herriard  was  glad  to  see  no  opposition 
in  his  eyes.  "So!  "  He  bowed  in  acknowledgment 
of  the  news  with  Austrian  courtliness. 

"My  sister's  happiness  is  mine.  Alix,"  he  took  her 
hands  in  his,  then  kissed  her  on  both  cheeks,  "  I  wish  you 
joy."  He  turned  to  Geoffrey.  "Herriard,  you  have 
my  warmest  wishes,  and  as  the  best  of  sisters  should  be 
the  best  of  wives,  I  give  them  with  all  confidence." 
He  shook  his  hands  warmly,  and  so  it  was  settled. 

As  the  hour  was  yet  early,  Herriard  stayed  for  a 
while  longer,  and  Alexia  kept  them  company  in  the 
smoking-room.  There  they  talked  happily,  laughing 
over  plans  for  the  future.  Alexia  told  her  brother  he 
would  have  to  find  a  wife  now  that  she  would  be  leaving 
him. 

"Ah,"  he  objected,  "I  have  some  work  to  do  first. 
I  must  rise  a  little  higher  in  my  profession  before  that 
comes  to  pass." 

"You  are  not  likely  to  make  an  unfortunate  choice, 


172  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

Count,"  Herriard  said,  "and  therefore  need  not  pay 
women  a  bad  compliment.  With  a  wife  such  as  my 
good  fortune  has  given  me  I  anticipate  no  drawback 
in  my  profession." 

Prosper  smiled.  "When  I  have  risen  as  high  in  my 
service  as  you  have  in  yours,  my  dear  fellow,  it  will  be 
time  for  me  to  think  about  matrimony." 

Herriard  gave  a  deprecating  head-shake.  "I  have 
much  to  do  yet,"  he  said,  with  more  conviction  than 
they  gave  him  credit  for,  as  he  thought  how  he  had 
now  to  work  and  fight  alone.  "To  an  ambitious  man, 
everything. " 

Prosper  laughed  again.  "I  am  glad  to  see  that  you 
are  modest  as  well  as  ambitious.  All  the  same,  my 
dear  Herriard,  it  is  generally  admitted  that  you  have 
won  for  yourself  a  most  enviable  and  honourable  posi- 
tion. " 

The  word  honourable  grated  on  Herriard 's  sense  of 
the  fitting.  "No!  no!  "  he  protested,  with  the  impul- 
sive vehemence  of  awakened  shame. 

But  the  Count  set  himself  to  maintain  the  point.  "A 
man,"  he  argued,  "can  haidly  gauge  his  own  position. 
I  go  about  much,  my  dear  Geoffrey,  and  hear  what  is 
said  of  your  success.  Why,  only  this  afternoon  at  the 
Travellers,  Josselyn,  who  you  will  allow  knows  some- 
thing of  his  profession  and  yours,  was  saying  that  you 
had  now  quite  taken  the  place,  vacant  since  his  death, 
of  one  of  the  most  successful  advocates  of  our  genera- 
tion, Paul  Gastineau. " 

At  the  name,  Herriard  and  Alexia's  eyes  met  with 
such  significance  that  Prosper  could  not  but  notice  it. 

"Why,  what  is  it?  What  have  I  said?  "  he  de- 
manded, glancing  from  one  to  the  other. 


HEARING  A  CRISIS  173 

"  Nothing, "  his  sister  answered  quickly.  "  It  is  curious 
that  we  happened  to  mention  Mr.  Gastineau's  name  a 
little  while  ago. " 

"You  are  supposed  to  be  like  him  in  Court,  Her- 
riard," Prosper  went  on.  "But  with  more  scrupulous- 
ness and  less  venom."  He  laughed.  "That's  what 
the  critics  say.  I  don't  know  how  far  it  is  a  compli- 
ment. I  never  heard  Gastineau  in  Court;  but  I  dare 
say  you  know  better  than  I,  his  reputation  was  not 
quite  such  as  a  very  honourable  man  would  envy.  He 
went  in  to  win  at  any  price,  did  n't  he?  and  not  always 
to  fight  fair,  either  in  law  or  politics,  so  they  say." 

"I  have  heard  that,"  Herriard  said,  thinking  of  what 
Alexia  had  told  him. 

"But  he  was  successful,"  Count  Prosper  continued 
in  the  lazy  discussion  of  a  fact  which  a  cigar  induces; 
"the  world  is  dazzled  by  success,  and  in  its  eagerness 
to  applaud  does  not  stop  to  ask  how  the  success  has 
been  won. " 

"Only  a  few  men  do  that,"  Alexia  observed,  "and 
their  criticism  goes  for  little." 

"Yes,"  Herriard  agreed,  "in  the  judgment  of  men's 
characters,  of  successful  men,  at  any  rate,  it  is  the  few 
who  are  right,  the  mob  who  are  wrong.  But  the  mob 
counts. " 

"Talking  of  that  man  Gastineau,"  Count  Prosper 
said  casually,  "have  you  heard  the  weird  story  that  he 
has  been  seen  about  town?  " 

"Paul  Gastineau?  "  Herriard  exclaimed.  "Impos- 
sible! "  He  glanced  at  Alexia.  Her  eyes  were  on  her 
brother  with  a  look  of  mingled  apprehension  and  in- 
credulity. 

"Yes,"  Prosper  went  on,  as  he  blew  out  a  long  puff 


174  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

of  smoke,  "it  is  rather  startling,  considering  that  the 
fellow  was  killed  in  that  railway  accident  near  Cordova 
some  years  ago.  But  the  man — I  have  heard,  but  for- 
get who,  anyhow  a  man  who  knew  him  well — swears 
he  saw  him  one  evening  lately." 

There  was  a  silence;  for  a  few  moments  neither  of 
the  other  two  could  speak. 

"Or  his  ghost,"  Prosper  added  presently,  puffing 
lazily  at  his  cigar. 

"Or  some  one  very  like  him,"  Alexia  suggested,  her 
eyes  full  of  an  uneasy  speculation. 

"That,"  said  Prosper  easily,  unconscious  of  the  feel- 
ing his  announcement  had  excited,  "is  probably  the 
explanation.  I  was  once  absolutely  deceived  myself 
in  that  way.  Stopped  my  own  cousin  in  the  street  to 
find  after  a  few  words  that  it  was  not  he  at  all,  but 
a  total  stranger.  And  the  curious  part  of  it  was  that 
the  man  told  me  I  was  exactly  like  some  one  he  knew. 
So  we  were  both  deceived. " 

"It  shows,"  Herriard  spoke  mechanically,  "that 
these  personal  resemblances  are  common  enough. " 

"Oh,  yes,"  Prosper  laughed,  "there  are  only  a  certain 
number  of  human  moulds,  and  we  are  turned  out  of 
one  or  another  of  them  with  slight  variations  in  the 
setting  and  the  finish." 

"Yes,"  Alexia  said  with  an  effort,  speaking  more  to 
herself  than  to  the  others,  "that  can  be  the  only  ex- 
planation of  a  man  who  was  killed  years  ago  in  Spain, 
being  seen  walking  the  London  streets  to-day." 

If  her  tone  seemed  to  dismiss  the  strange  report  as 
easily  accounted  for,  there  was  in  her  face  a  look  which 
Herriard  did  not  like  to  see. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

AMAZEMENT 

WHEN  he  left  Green  Street  that  night  Herriard  had 
become  possessed  of  a  conviction,  vague  yet  pos- 
itive, that  the  events  of  his  life  were  moving  swiftly 
towards  a  crisis.  How  near  that  crisis  was  and  what 
shape  it  was  about  to  take  he  little  imagined.  The 
problems  before  him  were  so  acute  and  so  perplexing 
that  it  was  many  hours  before  his  brain,  wearied  with 
the  struggle,  let  him  sleep.  The  joy  of  his  love,  of  his 
betrothal,  was  so  mingled  and  interwoven  with  dark 
and  troublesome  thoughts,  that  only  intermittently 
could  he  indulge  it.  One  thing  was  certain.  He  must 
break  with  Gastineau.  That  disingenuous  partnership 
could  not  continue.  Apart  from  all  idea  of  the  fraud, 
for  to  live  on  the  credit  and  success  derived  from  an- 
other man's  brains  now  insistently  presented  itself  to  him 
as  nothing  less,  it  was  now  imperative  that  he  should 
be  his  own  master.  The  fortune  to  which  he  was  giving 
a  hostage  must  be  an  honest  one,  of  that  he  was  deter- 
mined. 

How  Gastineau  would  take  the  question  of  their  sev- 
erance he  could  not  be  sure.  The  man  was  a  contra- 
diction, and  his  character  forbade  the  idea  of  accurate 
forecast  as  to  his  actions.  Anyhow  the  resolve  had  to 
be  mooted  and  its  reception  faced,  unpleasant  task 
though  it  were,  and  the  more  so  that  on  the  surface  it 
smacked  of  ingratitude. 

175 


176  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

That  it  should  have  been  Gastineau  of  all  men  who 
had  forced  his  unwelcome  attentions  upon  Countess 
Alexia  was  a  most  deplorable  coincidence,  and  with 
the  hateful  complications  it  suggested  there  mingled 
the  harassing  thought  of  the  further  deceit  his  knowl- 
edge of  Gastineau's  existence  forced  upon  him.  There, 
however,  he  had  the  satisfactory  excuse  that  his  with- 
holding of  the  fact  would  be  for  Alexia's  peace  of  mind; 
he  might  honourably  conceal  his  knowledge  till  the  dis- 
closure of  the  secret  was  likely  to  have  no  ill  effect;  and 
indeed  he  was  bound  to  secrecy  by  his  solemn  promise 
to  Gastineau. 

He  fell  to  thinking  of  the  man's  character,  analyzing 
it  by  the  light  of  what  he  had  just  heard,  and  told  him- 
self he  could  well  imagine  how  unchivalrously  ruthless 
Gastineau  could  be,  how  pitilessly  he  would  work  his 
resolve  in  a  matter  where  his  feelings  were  strongly 
touched.  He  could  be,  as  Herriard  had  reason  to  know, 
tenaciously  vindictive,  malignant  to  a  degree  abnormal 
in  human  nature.  Petty  slights  and  discomfitures  of 
the  past  were  remembered  and  brought  up  again  with 
a  view  to  reprisal,  for  which,  as  has  been  seen,  Herriard 
was  the,  often  unwilling,  instrument.  He  had,  however, 
felt  himself  bound  to  fight  Gastineau's  posthumous  bat- 
tles, to  be  the  secret  champion  of  the  man  who  had  so 
splendidly  fulfilled  his  half  of  the  contract,  and  indeed 
Gastineau,  when  arming  his  pupil  for  the  conflicts,  had 
always  made  very  plausible  excuses  for  the  stinging 
aggressiveness  of  the  attacks  he  was  planning,  and  had 
a  pleasant  way  of  ornamenting  with  his  wit  what,  di- 
vested of  flourishes,  amounted  to  little  more  than  gra- 
tuitous bullying.  That  wit  of  his  was  the  Matador's 
cloak  with  which  he  covered  the  deadly  sword  of  his 


AMAZEMENT  177 

invective.  Happily  for  his  own  reputation  Herriard, 
being  a  man  of  a  character  very  different  from  his  men- 
tor's, had  been  wont  by  a  certain  innate  distinction  and 
refinement  of  touch  to  soften  the  ugliness  of  the  spite 
which  underlay  Gastineau's  methods  and  expressions. 
Still  the  animus  was  no  less  real  to  him,  and  in  the 
present  crisis  was  tinged  by  the  disturbing  consideration 
of  what  that  resolute  mind  might  be  capable  of  working 
against  his  happiness  and  Alexia's. 

True,  Gastineau  in  his  present  condition  was  to  all 
intents  powerless;  but  could  a  man  with  a  brain  so 
acute,  so  scheming,  so  restless,  ever  with  safety  be  con- 
sidered powerless  for  evil?  Was  not  that  extraordinary 
partnership,  which  had  been  established  between  them 
immediately  Gastineau  found  he  was  to  live,  proof  of 
what  strange  scheming  he  was  capable?  The  whole 
situation  was  terribly  disquieting,  and  Herriard  found 
himself  feverishly  anxious  for  its  solution. 

Once  or  twice  the  strange  report  of  Gastineau's  hav- 
ing been  seen  about  and  recognized  came  to  his  mind. 
It  was  the  more  curious  to  him  in  its  coincidence  with 
the  real  fact  of  the  man's  being  alive;  but  on  the  whole 
he  attached  little  importance  to  it,  being  convinced  it 
was  merely  a  case  of  mistaken  identity.  There  were 
plenty  of  stupid  people  walking  the  streets  of  London, 
all  ready  for  a  mystification;  and,  as  Count  Prosper 
had  said,  singular  cases  of  resemblance  were  the  expe- 
rience of  nearly  every  one.  t  So  Herriard  let  that  pass 
without  adding  more  than  a  momentary  addition  to  his 
uneasiness. 

The  next  day  was  a  busy  one  for  him  in  the  Courts, 
and  when  they  rose  he  had  to  hurry  down  to  the  House 
on  an  urgent  whip  to  wait  for  an  important  division 
12 


178  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

which  promised  to  be  very  close.  It  was  an  annoying 
delay,  seeing  that  he  had  made  other  plans  for  that 
afternoon.  He  naturally  was  eager  to  be  with  Alexia 
again,  to  make  amends  for  the  snatched  wooing  of  the 
previous  night;  then  there  was  Gastineau  to  see  and 
the  question  of  their  severance  to  be  determined. 

But  it  was  not  until  evening  that  Herriard  found 
himself  free  to  leave  the  House.  It  was  then,  being 
about  the  dinner  hour,  too  late  or  too  early  to  call  on 
Alexia,  so  he  drove  to  the  outskirts  of  Mayfair,  and 
then,  as  was  his  wont,  dismissing  the  cab,  walked  to 
Gastineau's. 

His  friend  greeted  him  without  a  sign  of  the  previous 
night's  animosity.  It  was  with  a  smile  only  just  tinged 
with  cynicism  that  Gastineau  inquired  as  to  the  result 
of  his  wooing. 

"Well,  Geof,  is  it  settled?  " 

Herriard  nodded.  "I  am  sorry  not  to  look  for  your 
congratulations,  but  I  am  accepted." 

Except  by  a  curious  contraction  of  the  eyes,  a  tight- 
ening, as  it  were,  of  the  muscles  that  govern  the  facial 
play,  Gastineau's  face  betrayed  no  feeling. 

"You  need  not  be  so  stand-offish  about  it,  Geof,"  he 
observed  with  a  laugh.  "It  is  extraordinary  how,  in 
affairs  of  the  heart,  men  will  resent  all  advice  and  com- 
ment on  the  most  important  event  in  their  lives,  even 
from  their  best  friends.  Now,  please  don't  get  angry, " 
for  Herriard  had  made  an  impatient  movement;  "do 
remember  that,  if  I  am  a  hopeless  cripple,  I  can  at  least 
see  as  far  into  an  affair  of  this  sort,  and  a  complex  affair 
it  is,  as  yourself.  I  have  given  you  my  advice,  unfortu- 
nately it  had  to  be  unacceptable,  and  you  have  rejected 
it,  voita  tout." 


AMAZEMENT  179 

"It  sounded  yesterday,"  Herriard  said,  with  a  feel- 
ing of  distaste  at  the  reason  which  he  knew  underlay 
the  other's  action,  "less  like  advice  than  a  threat." 

"A  threat?  "  Gastineau  drew  back  one  side  of  his 
mouth  in  a  patronizing  smile  of  protest.  "My  dear 
fellow,  you  must  be  getting  sensitive  over  this  unfor- 
tunate affair.  How  should  I  threaten  you?  " 

The  wording  of  the  question  was  vague,  perhaps  in- 
tentionally so.  "That  I  cannot  say,"  Herriard  returned 
shortly,  still  ruffled  and  not  caring  to  thrash  out  the 
matter. 

"No,  I  should  think  not,"  Gastineau  rejoined,  with 
a  little  scornful  laugh.  "Don't  let  us  waste  our  time 
in  talking  nonsense.  It  is  puerile.  Now,  tell  me  about 
your  cases  to-day." 

He  dismissed  and  changed  the  subject  with  the  per- 
emptoriness  of  a  schoolmaster  dealing  with  a  foolish 
pupil.  Herriard  rather  welcomed  the  tone;  it  would 
facilitate  the  mooting  of  the  important  question  he  was 
there  to  settle. 

He  spoke  shortly  of  the  day's  cases:  they  had  not 
been  of  great  importance  or  complexity,  and  there  was 
no  reason  for  dwelling  on  them.  Then  their  talk  turned 
on  the  afternoon's  debate  in  the  House.  Gastineau 
questioned  him  minutely,  as  was  sometimes  his  wont, 
about  the  speeches  and  the  general  conduct  of  the  de- 
bate. 

"Why  on  earth  did  n't  you  speak?  "  he  asked  pres- 
ently. There  was  a  certain  tartness  in  the  tone  of  the 
question  which  to-day  Herriard  rather  resented. 

"I?  "  he  replied.  "I  had  nothing  to  say.  I  was  not 
posted  on  the  facts.  Besides,  they  did  not  want  me  to 
get  up. " 


180  THE  MASTER  -  SPIRIT 

"Did  not  want  you!  "  Gastineau  echoed  impatiently. 
"What  had  that  to  do  with  it?  Your  business,"  he 
went  on  testily,  "is  to  speak  when  it  suits  you,  not 
when  the  Whips  please.  And  as  to  not  being  posted 
in  the  facts,  surely  you  could  have  gathered  them  from 
the  opening  speeches.  The  ineffable  Congreve  appears 
to  have  been  in  a  particularly  tight  corner;  there  was 
your  chance  of  giving  the  blatant  ass  a  good  kicking. 
But  you  missed  it,"  he  added,  in  a  tone  of  disgust. 

"Congreve  got  it  pretty  hot  from  all  sides,  as  it  was. " 

Gastineau  made  an  exclamation  of  impatience.  "Do 
you  think  he  cared  for  that  sort  of  basting?  The  hide 
of  the  superior  person  is  thicker  than  any  donkey's. 
You  must  thrust  through  it  and  sting;  mere  drubbing 
is  of  no  use.  Who  went  for  him?  " 

"Franklin  and  Hayland  more  particularly." 

"Pooh!  "  Gastineau  returned  contemptuously.  ''Do 
you  think  Congreve,  who,  after  all,  has  some  knowledge 
of  men,  cares  for  either  of  those?-  Poor  old  Franklin 
with  his  academical  criticisms,  and  Hayland  who  is  a 
snob  at  heart  and  quite  ready  to  black  Congreve's  boots 
to  show  that  his  antagonism  is  merely  of  party.  And 
you,  with  this  splendid  opportunity  to  your  hand,  were 
content  to  leave  Congreve's  trouncing  to  those  feeble 
exponents  of  the  art  of  taking  the  shine  out  of  aristo- 
cratic frauds  and  weaklings.  Upon  my  word,  Geoffrey 
Herriard,  I  begin  to  despair  of  you. " 

The  opening  for  which  Herriard  was  waiting  had  pre- 
sented itself. 

"In  that  case,"  he  returned  quietly,  "it  would  be 
better  that  our  partnership  should  end." 

Gastineau  shot  a  searching  glance  at  him.  "You 
think  so?  " 


AMAZEMENT  181 

His  fathoming,  and  yet  unfathomable,  manner  was 
disconcerting,  but  Herriard  stood  to  his  point.  "We 
seem  to  have  been  out  of  agreement  lately,"  he  said. 

"  In  one  matter. " 

"A  very  important  one — to  me,  at  least." 

Gastineau  gave  a  little  nod,  and  then  a  sneering  smile 
spread  over  his  pale  face.  "You  mean  you  feel  you 
can  run  alone,"  he  suggested,  "that  you  can  get  on 
without  me?  " 

The  tone  was  so  cutting  that  it  forced  Herriard  to 
reply  warmly.  "That  is  very  far  from  being  the  reason, 
I  am  sorry  that  you  should  impute  such  a  motive  to 
me." 

Gastineau  laughed,  still  sneering.  "  I  don't  know  that 
I  should  blame  you,"  he  said.  "When  a  man  feels 
his  feet,  the  arm  that  has  kept  him  up  in  deep  water 
becomes  an  encumbrance. " 

"You  are  utterly  mistaken  in  the  motive  of  my  sug- 
gestion," Herriard  protested.  "You  have  no  cause  to 
charge  me  with  such  rank  ingratitude  as  that  would  be. 
The  fact  that  I  owe  every  step  of  my  position  to  you 
makes  me  very  unwilling  to  propose  that  we  should 
work  together  no  longer.  Yet  for  some  time  past  I 
have  felt  that  our  partnership  must  come  to  an  end." 

"I  can  hardly  offer  any  effective  objection,"  Gas- 
tineau replied,  still  with  the  suggestion  of  a  little  quiet 
scorn.  "I  am  in  your  hands."  There  was  a  subtle 
touch  of  irony  in  the  words.  "But  even  now  you  have 
not  given  me  any  adequate  reason  for  the  step,  and  it 
seems  to  me  that  I  have  at  least  a  moral  right  to  expect 
one." 

The  whole  reason  could  scarcely  be  given,  and  the 
half  seemed  absurdly  weak  and  inadequate.  Still  Her- 


182  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

riard  tried  to  make  the  most  of  it.  "The  reason,"  he 
answered,  "is  surely  obvious.  Our  difference  of  opinion 
respecting  the  woman  who  is  to  be  my  wife. " 

Gastineau  gave  a  shrug  and  a  laugh.  "May  differ- 
ence of  opinion You  are  taking  the  expression  of 

mine  very  seriously,  my  dear  Geof. " 

"Can  I  do  otherwise?  " 

"You  might  stop  short  at  Quixotism." 

"Quixotism!  "  Herriard  echoed.  "How  can  we  work 
together  on  the  old  footing  with  my  knowledge  that  in 
your  eyes  my  wife  is  a  perjured  murderess?  " 

Gastineau  smiled  deprecatingly.  "Scarcely  so  bad 
as  that." 

"Something  very  like  it.  Your  opinion  is  that  the 
Countess  Alexia  killed  Martindale;  venially,  if  not  with 
malice  aforethought;  and  has  denied  on  oath  all  knowl- 
edge of  how  he  came  by  his  death." 

Contrary,  perhaps,  to  Herriard's  expectation,  Gas- 
tineau made  no  attempt  to  deny  or  even  soften  the 
expression  of  his  judgment.  "And  so,"  he  said,  with 
a  reversion  to  his  more  languid  manner,  "you  think  that 
our  eventful  connection  should  come  to  an  end?  " 

"I  think  it  must,"  Herriard  answered,  glad  to  bring 
the  disagreeable  subject  to  finality. 

"Very  well."  Then,  with  his  peculiar  smile,  "But 
not  to-day.  You  are  not  married  yet.  Who  knows 
what  may  not  happen  before  the  wedding-day  to  mod- 
ify my  disturbing  opinion?  The  real  culprit  may  turn 
up.  I  hope  you  are  searching  for  him;  for,  if  I  may 
say  so  without  adding  to  my  offence,  the  late  verdict 
leaves  something  to  be  desired. " 

"I  know  that,"  Herriard  assented  gloomily. 

Gastineau     nodded     to  emphasize     the     necessity. 


AMAZEMENT  183 

"Well,"  he  proceeded,  "before  the  two  halves  of  this 
pair  of  shears  are  unscrewed  we  may  as  well  make  one 
or  two  final  cuts  with  them.  .  I  think  we  might  get 
Mr.  Congreve's  aquiline  nose  between  them  while  they 
are  yet  in  working  condition.  It  is  a  pity  you  let  him 
off  to-day  when  he  was  delivered  into  your  hand.  But 
I  suppose  the  affaire  Rohnburg  was  responsible  for  that 
too.  My  dear  Geoffrey,  have  n't  I  told  you  that  a  man 
who  would  rise  must  keep  his  mind  in  divisions,  and 
never  allot  more  room  than  one  of  them  to  any  one 
object?  He  must  never  allow  the  whole  working  to  be 
thrown  out  of  gear  because  one  engine  breaks  down. 
Or,  like  a  ship  fitted  with  water-tight  compartments, 
if  one  is  pierced  and  flooded,  his  mind  must  still  be 
buoyant  and  steerable.  Yours  seems  now  to  be  water- 
logged. Don't  be  offended.  I  am  going  to  inflict  you 
with  my  maxims  up  to  the  end. " 

Presently  they  parted:  to  all  appearances  not  much 
worse  friends  than  ever.  Herriard  promised  to  come 
again  next  day,  and  went  off  to  call  at  Green  Street. 
He  had  opened  the  street  door  when  it  occurred  to  him 
that  it  would  be  well  for  him  to  write  a  note  of  explan- 
ation to  leave  for  Alexia  in  case  he  should  not  find  her 
at  home.  Accordingly  he  shut  the  door  again,  and  went 
into  a  little  study  on  the  ground  floor  which  he  had 
sometimes  used  for  writing,  when,  perhaps,  Gastineau 
had  seemed  tired,  and  he  had  not  cared  to  bore  him 
by  staying  in  his  room  too  long. 

This  room — it  is  as  well  to  describe  its  situation  in 
view  of  what  happened — was  approached  through  an 
arch,  filled  with  a  portiere,  from  another  and  larger 
apartment  which  was  fitted  as  a  smoking-room,  for, 
although  Gastineau  could  have  had  little  hope  of  using 


184  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

it  himself,  it  was  one  of  his  fads  and  fancies  to  have 
his  house  perfectly  appointed  as  a  bachelor's  resi- 
dence. 

Herriard  had  passed  into  the  inner  room  and  sat 
down  at  the  writing  table,  switching  on  a  shaded  elec- 
tric lamp,  for  dusk  had  begun  to  fall  and  that  room 
was  always  gloomy,  shut  in  as  it  was  and  darkened  by 
stained  glass  windows  and  sombre  bookcases. 

The  short  note  was  soon  written.  Herriard  closed 
the  envelope,  looked  at  his  watch,  and  then  extinguished 
the  lamp.  It  was  somewhat  earlier  than  he  thought; 
he  did  not  care  to  present  himself  at  Green  Street  till 
dinner  was  well  over.  It  would  be  as  well  to  wait  ten 
minutes  longer.  So  he  sat  back  in  the  writing  chair 
and  fell  to  reviewing  his  late  interview  with  the  man 
upstairs.  It  was  an  unspeakable  relief  to  him  that  he 
had  got  over  the  awkward  question,  and  had  done  so 
with  as  little  unpleasantness  as  could  have  been  ex- 
pected. The  disagreeable  thought  which  overlay  the 
whole  delicate  business  was  Gastineau's  disingenuous 
slander  of  Alexia.  Had  it  been  an  honest  expression  of 
suspicion  and  doubt  it  would  have  been  galling  enough: 
being  what  it  was,  the  outcome  of  spite,  it  had  the  nat- 
ural effect  of  turning  Herriard's  feelings  of  friendship 
and  gratitude  almost  to  loathing.  Well,  he  thought, 
the  separation  is  in  train  now;  its  completion  is  but  a 
matter  of  days,  or,  at  most,  weeks.  And  then?  He 
fell  to  wondering  what  Gastineau's  life  would  be. 
Would  he  find  another  friend,  another  partner?  Very 
likely  he  would  get  hold  of  a  second  apt  pupil  and  run 
him  against  his  first.  Would  the  new  partner  be  primed 
to  attack  him  as  he  himself  had  been  forced  to  attack 
Congreve  and  other  betes  noires  of  Gastineau?  Well, 


AMAZEMENT  185 

it  could  not  be  helped;  let  him  be  thankful  that  the 
questionable  alliance  had  come  to  an  end. 

Then  he  thought  how  lonely  Gastineau  would  be 
when  his  own  daily  visits  were  over:  and  he  felt  sorry, 
even  for  him,  even  for  that  restless,  malicious  spirit, 
cruelly,  yet  perhaps  happily,  fettered,  yet  so  keen  on 
working  off  his  venom  through  the  channel  of  another 
man's  self-interest.  Could  he  be  really  sorry  for  him 
after  what  he  had  heard?  Was  not  the  man  a  danger? 
Had  it  not  been  for  the  best — 

Suddenly  the  current  of  his  thoughts  was  arrested, 
he  could  scarcely  tell  why.  A  moving  presence  near 
him,  or  an  imperfectly  realized  sound,  was  responsible 
for  the  effect.  Anyhow,  Herriard  straightened  himself 
into  a  posture  of  attention  and  sat  listening.  The 
servant,  Hencher,  was  out;  Gastineau  had  told  him 
that  he  should  be  alone  in  the  house  for  some  hours 
that  evening.  And  yet  here  was — yes,  the  door  stood 
open  and  he  could  have  sworn  that  he  had  heard  some 
one  moving  outside  the  room.  He  stood  up  and  turned, 
waiting.  Through  the  opening  of  the  curtained  arch- 
way he  could  see  into  the  room  beyond;  the  blind 
was  not  drawn  down,  and  the  light  of  a  street  lamp 
fell  obliquely  across  the  room.  It  was  this  dull  stream 
of  light  that  Herriard  was  watching;  for  an  instant  it 
had  been  intercepted  as  a  dark  shadow  fell  across  it, 
then  it  streamed  uninterruptedly  again.  Some  one, 
something,  was  moving  beyond  the  curtains;  three  steps 
would  solve  the  mystery.  For  a  moment  Herriard  hes- 
itated; then  he  made  a  quick  step  forward.  Only  one. 
For  beyond  the  screen  of  the  portiere  the  figure  of  a 
man  appeared,  moving  quickly  across  the  room  until 
it  was  again  hidden  by  the  curtain  on  the  other  side. 


186  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

A  man.  Who  was  it?  The  back  of  the  figure  had  been 
turned  to  him,  and  the  light  which  shone  into  the  room 
fell  low,  leaving  the  head  in  darkness.  The  passing  of 
the  figure  had  not  broken  the  dead  silence;  was  it  really 
a  human  being,  or  an  hallucination  seen  by  Herriard's 
excited  brain,  or — a  supernatural  visitation?  These 
three  possibilities  flashed  through  Herriard's  mind  as 
he  stood  dumbfounded  for  the  moment.  He  held  his 
breath  to  listen  more  acutely.  A  slight  sound  came 
from  the  outer  room,  a  sound  as  of  some  small  object 
being  moved  or  laid  down,  and  Herriard  told  himself 
that  the  apparition  was  scarcely  supernatural.  Then, 
before  the  watcher  could  further  resolve  the  question, 
the  open  space  was  darkened  again,  and  the  mysterious 
figure  stood  between  him  and  the  light.  Herriard  was 
about  to  move  forward,  when  the  impulse  changed, 
and  involuntarily  he  drew  back  until  he  was  half  hid- 
den by  the  angle  of  a  bookcase  by  which  he  stood. 
A  strange  sensation  which  he  could  not  define  seemed 
to  hold  him  there,  without  the  power  or  the  will  to 
move,  staring  intently  at  the  man's  figure  which  now 
seemed  to  be  coming  towards  him. 

Breathlessly,  Herriard  waited  till  the  mysterious  vis- 
itor should  have  advanced  so  far  out  of  the  obscurity 
that  his  face  could  be  seen.  In  another  moment  the 
revelation  came. 

The  man  had  approached  the  opening  between  the 
rooms;  his  hand  was  on  the  curtain;  he  pulled  it  aside 
a  little,  as  though  glancing  into  the  study.  As  he 
turned  his  face,  the  light  just  brought  it  into  clear 
visibility.  With  a  shock  the  truth  came  to  Herriard. 
The  man  before  him  was  Gastineau. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

RESURRECTION 

HERRIARD  could  not  have  told  how  long  the  tense 
situation  lasted.  Nor  could  he  be  sure  whether 
Gastineau  saw  him  or  not.  The  shock  of  the  astound- 
ing sight  seemed  to  have  deprived  him  of  all  power  of 
speech  as  well  as  of  movement.  For  there  was  some- 
thing supernaturally  mysterious  about  it,  heightened 
by  the  certain  occult  power  of  will,  indefinable  and  not 
to  be  gauged,  which  had  always  suggested  itself  beneath 
Gastineau's  more  obvious  characteristics.  At  the  same 
time  Herriard's  mind  was  alert  enough,  with  the  ab- 
normal activity  of  a  dreamer's.  He  wondered  why 
Gastineau  did  not  speak;  then  whether  those  sharp  eyes 
could  fail  to  see  him;  all  the  time  searching  helplessly 
for  a  solution  of  the  miracle  of  his  being  there  on  his 
feet.  As  in  a  dream,  the  flash  of  time  was  lengthened 
out,  in  reality  Gastineau's  look  into  the  room  lasted  but 
two  or  three  seconds.  At  length  Herriard,  feeling  sure 
he  must  be  seen,  and  desperate  to  snap  the  intolerable 
tension,  made  an  effort  to  speak.  But  before  his  dry 
tongue  could  utter  a  sound,  Gastineau  turned  away  and 
disappeared. 

With  that,  the  rigidity  that  held  him  under  a  spell  of 
astonishment  approaching  to  horror  gradually  relaxed; 
the  power  of  practical  speculation  returned.  Was  it 
indeed  Gastineau  whom  he  had  seen?  He  went  forward 
a  few  steps  into  the  centre  of  the  room,  and  listened. 

187 


188  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

Not  a  sound  broke  the  stillness.  Then  from  the  street 
came  that  of  a  whistled  tune.  It  dissipated  instantly 
the  atmosphere  of  the  supernatural  which  seemed  to  fill 
the  house.  Herriard  was  ashamed  to  acknowledge  the 
courage  which  that  touch  of  outside,  common-place  life 
put  into  him.  He  passed  boldly  now  into  the  outer 
room  beyond;  it  was  empty.  He  went  quickly  out  into 
the  hall;  no  one  was  to  be  seen,  no  movement  to  be 
heard.  Had  it  been  really  Gastineau?  He  was  now 
inclined  to  put  the  appearance  down  to  an  hallucina- 
tion; that  could  be  plausibly  accounted  for  in  the  pres- 
ent perturbed  state  of  his  mind;  the  alternative  was 
beyond  the  bounds  of  possibility.  At  least  it  would 
be  easy  to  make  sure. 

Herriard  ran  quickly  upstairs,  laughing  a  little  un- 
comfortably at  the  absurd  want  of  balance  his  brain 
had  shown.  Next  moment  the  shock  and  tremor  re- 
turned. For,  in  front  of  him,  as  he  reached  the  wide 
landing,  the  door  of  Gastineau's  room  stood  wide  open. 
He  knew  that  he  had  shut  it  when  he  left  the  room 
twenty  minutes  before.  Who  could  have  opened  it  if 
there  were  no  human  being  in  the  house  but  Gastineau 
and  himself?  Who  but  one? 

Then  he  laughed.  Of  course  Hencher  had  returned 
earlier  than  was  expected,  and  had  gone  into  his  mas- 
ter's room,  leaving  the  door  open.  Herriard  crossed 
to  the  room  and  went  in.  Gastineau  was  not  there; 
his  couch  was  empty. 

For  some  time  Herriard  stood  staring  at  his  friend's 
accustomed  place  stupidly,  dumbfoundedly,  unable  all 
at  once  to  realize  all  the  empty  room  meant.  Then 
it  came  to  him,  vaguely,  but  blurred  as  to  the  details, 
and,  following  closely  on  that,  a  certain  horror.  The 


RESURRECTION  189 

man's  real  character  seemed  to  have  been  revealed  to 
him  suddenly;  he  had  known  him  intimately  for  years 
without  learning  as  much  about  him  and  his  nature  as 
the  last  twenty-four  hours  had  taught  him.  And  now, 
with  the  revelation  of  the  depths — perhaps  not  yet  the 
lowest — of  the  man's  character  and  capabilities,  had 
come  the  startling  knowledge  that  the  chains  which  had 
fettered  that  evil  spirit  in  the  flesh  had  been  struck 
off.  Gastineau,  then,  was  no  longer  a  prisoner,  but  a 
free  man,  free  to  work  his  will  upon  those  who  opposed 
him,  who  stood  in  his  way. 

But  the  real  significance  of  the  discovery  came  from 
the  secrecy  with  which  the  change  had  been  kept  from 
him.  Half  an  hour  ago  Gastineau  had  been  lying  on 
that  couch  in  the  manner  of  a  hopeless  paralytic;  the 
horror  of  that  living  lie  was  appalling  to  think  of.  Her- 
riard  had  often  of  late  applied  that  epithet  to  himself: 
here  was  the  wheel  within  the  wheel;  the  deceiver  him- 
self hoodwinked;  the  lower  depth,  undreamt  of,  in  what 
he  had  come  to  think  the  lowest. 

All  this  passed  swiftly  through  his  mind  as  soon  as 
he  could  bring  himself  to  realize  it;  then  came  a  more 
practical  consideration,  Gastineau  must  not  find  him 
there;  must  not  know  of  his  discovery  of  the  secret. 
Could  he  get  out  of  the  house,  unseen,  unheard?  In 
an  access  of  consternation  he  stole  to  the  door.  As 
his  hand  touched  it,  it  was  pushed  open  from  without 
and  he  fell  back  with  a  half  cry  as  Gastineau  stood 
before  him. 

The  face  he  encountered  was  dark  with  vicious  ill- 
humour;  but,  if  he  was  more  startled  than  Herriard  by 
the  rencontre,  he,  with  his  stronger  nerves,  showed  it 
less.  The  expression  of  angry  surprise  changed  into  a 


190  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

sneering,  evil  laugh  of  annoyance,  the  laugh  of  a  schemer 
who  is  found  out. 

It  was  characteristic  of  him  that  he  waited  for  Her- 
riard  to  speak.  The  explanation  was  due  not  from, 
but  to  him. 

"Gastineau,  you  are  well,  you  are  cured?  "  There 
was  contempt  now  in  the  laugh  with  which  the  other 
walked  past  him  into  the  room. 

Herriard  turned  and  faced  him.  "Gastineau, "  he 
said,  wondering  apprehensively  what  was  to  come, 
"why  did  you  not  tell  me?  " 

Gastineau  turned  too;  the  look  of  surprised  annoy- 
ance had  given  way  to  a  smile  which  was  not  exactly 
reassuring.  "Yes,"  he  replied  coolly;  "I  have  recov- 
ered the  use  of  my  limbs — no  thanks  to  you. " 

The  light  tone  in  which  the  last  words  were  spoken 
did  not  disguise  their  intentional  significance.  To  Her- 
riard they  were  obscure,  and  he  let  them  pass. 

"  But,  Gastineau,  why  this  secrecy?  " 

The  other  man's  mouth  was  drawn  to  one  side  in  a 
sneer.  ''Could  you  expect  anything  else?  "  he  re- 
turned. 

"  Surely, "  Herriard  answered  quite  frankly.  "  I  don't 
know  whether  you  kept  it  secret  to  give  me  a  pleasant 
surprise,"  he  added,  with  a  touch  of  irony. 

"A  pleasant  surprise!  "  Gastineau  repeated  the 
words  with  an  incredulous  drawl. 

"You  might  have  known  how  rejoiced  I  should  be 
at  your  recovery." 

Gastineau  laughed  unpleasantly.  "You  know  how 
wrong-headed  I  am  apt  to  be.  I  might  have  doubted 
even  your  satisfaction." 

Herriard   looked   at  him  in  wonder  at   the  line  he 


RESURRECTION  191 

was  taking.  "You  do  me  less  than  justice,"  he  pro- 
tested. 

"Do  I?  "  the  other  replied  meaningly.  "Well,  per- 
haps I  may  be  excused  for  imagining  you  would  just  as 
soon  that  things  remained  as  they  were.  It  is  scarcely 
worth  discussing. " 

"I  think  it  is,"  Herriard  maintained. 

"Oh,  no,"  Gastineau  denied  with  decision.  "I  am 
ready  to  accept  your  assurance  that  you  are  pleased  at 
my  recovery,"  he  continued,  in  an  off-hand  tone.  His 
manner  of  almost  vicious  irritation  had  disappeared. 
It  was  now  easy  and,  but  for  a  lurking  suspicion  of 
spite,  almost  pleasant. 

"Of  course  I  am,"  Herriard  assured  him,  with  a  show 
of  greater  conviction  than  perhaps  he  felt.  "Tell  me 
how  it  has  come  to  pass?  " 

Gastineau  took  out  a  cigarette  and  lighted  it.  "There 
is  nothing  much  to  tell;  I  have,  as  you  know,  a  strong 
constitution  and  a  still  stronger  will.  First  of  all,  let 
me  tell  you,  since  you  have  found  out  what  it  amused 
me  to  keep  secret — by  the  way,  I  thought  you  left  the 
house  some  time  ago?  "  He  spoke  sharply,  as  though 
accusing  Herriard  of  a  trick. 

"I  was  half  out  of  the  house,"  he  hastened  to  ex- 
plain, "but  came  back  to  write  a  note.  I  was  in  the 
study  when  you  came  downstairs,  and  could  not  be- 
lieve my  eyes  when  I  saw  you. " 

"  And  came  up  here  to  see  whether  I  was  my  own  ghost 
or  not?  "  Gastineau  supplemented  with  his  quick  percep- 
tiveness.  Herriard  nodded.  "Well,  there  is  no  harm 
done,  except,  perhaps,  so  far  as  my  own  plan  of  life  may 
be  affected.  Now,  although  the  conditions  are  changed,  I 
wish  my  being  alive  to  be  kept  as  close  a  secret  as  ever. " 


192  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"Of  course,"  Herriard  responded.  "You  may  trust 
me  not  to  breathe  a  hint  of  it." 

"To  any  one?  " 

"To  any  one." 

"No  even  to  your  fiancee,  Countess  Alexia?  " 

"No;  not  even  to  her."  To  Alexia  least  of  all,  he 
thought. 

Gastineau  smoked  in  silence  for  a  few  seconds,  inhal- 
ing the  smoke  slowly,  as  though  formulating  a  plan  of 
explanation.  "I  am  like  a  man  newly  risen  from  the 
dead;"  he  spoke  deliberately  with  a  curious  tenseness; 
"  or  rather,  like  one  born  in  manhood  instead  of  infancy. 
Life  has  come  upon  me  so  suddenly,  so  unexpectedly, 
that  I  am  bewildered.  I  cannot  look  ahead  yet,  cannot 
order  my  existence." 

"I  can  understand  that,"  Herriard  commented. 

"Whether  to  go  back  to  the  old  life,"  Gastineau  con- 
tinued musingly,  yet  characteristically  alert;  "or  to 
start  an  entirely  new  one,  to  carve  out  a  fresh  career; 
to  conquer  another  world,  rather  than  to  throw  myself 
again  into  the  old  arena  with  its  sordid  dust,  its  con- 
temptible applause?  That  is  the  question,"  he  raised 
his  tone,  "to  go  back  to  the  wrangling,  the  quibbling, 
the  stench  of  the  Courts,  the  knocking  of  sense  into  and 
prejudice  out  of  the  butchers'  skulls  of  twelve  greasy 
tradesmen,  the  blunting  of  one's  wits  against  the  Judge's 
shield  of  complacent  stupidity  and  shortsightedness,  the 
disgusting  obligation  to  win  a  ruffian's  or  a  sharper's 
fight  against  a  decent  fellow;  to  be  jostled  all  day  by 
glib,  shabby  lawyers'  clerks,  reeking  of  cheap  cigarettes 
and  bristling  with  impudence:  to  be  at  the  beck  and 
call  of  any  swindler  who  wants  to  ply  his  trade  with 
impunity,  fortified  by  counsel's  opinion;  then  to  go 


RESURRECTION  193 

down  to  the  House  of  Commons  as  special  pleader  for 
a  bill  which  one  knows  is  to  rob  one  class  in  order  to 
bribe  another;  to  bustle  through  life  with  an  axe  to 
grind,  and  to  cajole  every  useful  fool  into  acting  as  a 
grindstone,  faugh!  is  it  worth  it,  all  over  again?  No; 
I  feel  I  must  fill  my  new  lungs  with  a  fresher  atmos- 
phere. " 

"You  forget  the  rewards,  Gastineau, "  Herriard  said, 
wondering  how  far  the  other  was  in  earnest;  "the  re- 
wards which  were  admittedly  within  your  reach." 

"Rewards!  "  he  burst  out  contemptuously.  "Fancy 
me  a  Judge.  How  long  do  you  think  my  tongue,  my 
spirit,  would  let  me  sit  on  the  Bench?  The  Woolsack, 
which  my  flatterers  promised  me,  do  you  see  me  there? 
Could  I  school  myself  to  prose  and  mouth,  and  stage- 
manage  the  mummery  of  their  Lordships'  House?  No, 
Herriard.  This  is  a  new  birth  of  mine.  I  may  drift 
back  to  the  old  trade;  but  if  my  heart  was  ever  in  it — 
which  I  doubt — it  will  never  be  there  again. " 

"After  such  an  indictment  of  a  vocation  which  is 
mine  too,"  Herriard  observed,  with  a  doubtful  smile, 
"it  is  perhaps  as  well  that  our  offensive  alliance  is  com- 
ing to  an  end. " 

Gastineau  glanced  at  him  sharply,  as  though  in  search 
of  a  lurking  sarcasm.  "The  intellectual  side  of  our  pro- 
fession, as  it  should  be,  is  one  thing,"  he  said  quietly; 
"the  practical  scrimmage,  as  it  is,  is  quite  another.  It 
has  amused  me  to  help  you,  to  have  something  of  the 

fight  without  any  of  the  dust.  Now "  he  gave  a 

significant  shrug,  and  lighted  another  cigarette. 

To  Herriard  it  seemed  unwise  to  pursue  the  delicate 
subject  further.  It  was  evident  that  his  release  from 
the  partnership  was  forthcoming,  and  that  was  his  great 
13 


194  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

desire.  "You  have  not  explained  the  mystery  of  your 
recovery,"  he  said. 

There  was  what  seemed  an  uncalled-for  sneer  in  Gas- 
tineau's  off-hand  reply.  "I  scarcely  thought  it  would 
interest  you.  However,  I  may  tell  you  I  owe  my  cure 
to  Dr.  Hallamar. " 

"Dr.  Hallamar?  "  Herriard  cried  in  surprise.  "Why, 
you  told  me  he  declared  he  could  do  nothing  for  you. " 
Gastineau  gave  a  sharper's  laugh  at  his  gull's  remon- 
strances. "Nor  could  he  then,"  he  returned,  "seeing 
that  the  work  was  done,  the  cure  effected." 

"What,  before  I  spoke  of  him  to  you?  " 

"Just  so,"  Gastineau  replied  mockingly,  "before  you 
spoke  of  him  to  me.  When  that  happened  my  cure 
was  on  the  eve  of  completion.  If  it  suits  yon  to  shut 
your  eyes,  my  dear  friend,  it  is  to  my  advantage  to 
keep  mine  open. " 

Herriard  could  not  be  certain  whether  the  suggestion 
was  meant  that  he  had  wilfully  shut  his  eyes.  He  hated 
the  thought  that  there  was  near  being  a  grain  of  truth 
in  the  suspicion,  if  such  it  were.  "I  am  glad,"  he  said 
simply,  "that  my  stupid  indifference  to  Hallamar's  work 
and  fame  was  counteracted  by  your  vigilance.  I  admit 
that  my  ignorance  was  inexcusable." 

"It  made  no  difference,"  Gastineau  replied  with  cold 
brevity. 

"Happily." 

"  Now,  don't  let  me  keep  you.  You  are  going  to  the 
Countess?  " 

The  words  were  snapped  out;  their  viciousness 
scarcely  covered  by  the  affectation  of  half-contemptuous 
indifference  which  Gastineau  assumed. 

"I  was." 


RESURRECTION  195 

"But  my  resurrection  has  surprised  you  into  neglect- 
ing even  that  agreeable  duty.  I  don't  wonder.  My 
restoration  to  bodily  activity  is  full  of  startling  possi- 
bilities. By  the  way,  I  think  you  said  you  were  seri- 
ously engaged  to  the  Countess?  " 

"Seriously.     Of  course." 

"  In  spite  of  my  warning. " 

"Which  I  fear  I  cannot  act  upon." 

"Ah,  well,  we  shall  see."  Gastineau  went  over  to  a 
writing  table,  seated  himself  and  took  up  a  pen.  "You 
will  come  and  see  me  to-morrow  evening,"  he  said, 
without  turning.  But  for  the  inflection,  which  was  in- 
terrogative, the  tone  suggested  a  command.  "I  may 
have  something  important  and  definite  to  say  to  you 
then.  At  present  my  plans  are  not  formulated." 

"Very  well,"  Herriard  replied,  troubled  and  doubtful. 

"You  will  not  fail?     Good-night." 

He  looked  round  and  nodded  smilingly,  then  turned 
back  to  his  writing.  Herriard,  with  a  strangely  un- 
comfortable feeling,  bade  him  good-night,  and  left  him. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

HERRIARD   STANDS   ALONE 

ONCE  outside  the  house,  the  tension  at  which  Her- 
riard's  nerves  had  been  strung  during  that  sur- 
prising interview  relaxed,  and  a  whirl  of  troubling, 
anxious  thoughts  crowded  to  his  mind.  He  seemed 
suddenly  plunged  from  light  into  darkness;  just  as  he 
seemed  to  be  making  harbour  to  be  carried  back  upon 
an  angry  sea.  He  felt  he  was  in  no  condition  then  to 
see  Alexia;  she  would  surely  detect  from  his  manner 
that  something  was  wrong,  and,  unhappily,  he  was  de- 
barred from  all  explanation  of  his  trouble.  The  late- 
ness of  the  hour  afforded  him  some  excuse  for  not  pre- 
senting himself;  perhaps  on  the  morrow  his  mind  would 
be  clearer  and  he  more  master  of  himself.  As  it  was, 
just  then  he  felt  he  must  think,  resolve  and  resolve  again 
the  problem,  presented  so  threateningly,  of  Gastineau's 
persecution  of  Alexia,  coupled  with  his  recovery. 

How  did  he,  Geoffrey  Herriard,  stand  in  the  matter? 
What  part  was  he  to  play?  What  was  his  course,  for 
Alexia's  sake,  to  be?  At  present  his  position  was  clear. 
He  stood  between  Gastineau  and  the  object  of  his  de- 
sire. At  which  of  them  would  that  subtle,  resolute, 
relentless  spirit  strike  first;  at  him  or  her?  That  could 
with  no  certainty  be  forecasted;  Gastineau's  mind  did 
not  move  in  men's  common  grooves  of  thought  and 
action.  He  knew  that  well  enough,  and  that  the  essence 
of  his  quondam  tutor's  aggressive  tactics  was  surprise. 

196 


HERRIARD  STANDS  ALONE  197 

To  know  when  to  hit  and  where  to  hit  had  been  his 
rule;  he  was  wont  to  strike  quickly  and  from  the  least 
expected  side.  It  seemed  pretty  certain,  so  far  as  any- 
thing could  be  foreseen,  that  he  would  strike  at  Alexia. 
Altogether,  the  problem  seemed  so  complex  that  Her- 
riard  was  convinced  that  its  ultimate  solution  must  lie 
in  its  own  developments.  He  was  dealing  with  an  ab- 
normal character,  and  all  he  could  do  was  to  keep  warily 
on  his  guard.  Whichever  way  he  looked  at  the  situa- 
tion his  position  was  hateful;  but  it  was  one  from  which, 
for  Alexia's  sake,  he  could  not  flinch. 

So,  after  a  perturbed  pacing  of  one  of  the  Park's 
outer  walks,  he  turned  his  steps  towards  his  rooms  in 
Mount  Street.  Abandoning  the  riddle  of  the  future, 
his  thoughts  rested  on  the  past.  Now  he  understood 
why  on  two  chance  occasions  Gastineau  had  been  denied 
to  him.  He  had  been  at  the  moment  probably  under- 
going secret  treatment  at  the  hands  of  Dr.  Hallamar. 
And  the  thousand  pounds  of  which  Gastineau  had  sud- 
denly found  himself  in  need:  that  sum  was  surely  to 
make  up  the  great  surgeon's  fee.  Now  it  was  plain  why 
Gastineau  had  himself  insisted  on  writing  what  had 
purported  to  be  a  note  of  invitation  to  Dr.  Hallamar 
to  see  him,  and  had  sent  it  off  without  giving  Herriard 
a  sight  of  it.  In  effect  it  must  have  been  an  injunc- 
tion to  the  Doctor  not  to  divulge  even  to  his  patient's 
friend  that  the  cure  was  already  effected.  Yes;  one 
after  another,  little  incidents  occurred  to  Herriard,  who, 
having  now  the  key  of  the  puzzle,  fitted  them  in  con- 
vincingly. And  so  the  night  passed. 

Next  day  he  snatched  an  hour  between  the  rising 
of  the  Courts  and  a  consultation  to  go  to  Green 
Street. 


198  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"And  I  expected  you  every  hour  yesterday,"  Alexia 
said  reproachfully. 

"You  had  my  note?  "  he  replied.  "Had  I  known 
I  was  to  be  kept  all  day  it  should  have  been  sent  earlier. 
But  I  expected,  as  you  did,  that  every  hour  would 
bring  me  here." 

"Were  you  really  so  busy?  "  she  asked,  still  unsat- 
isfied. "From  early  morning,  till  late  at  night?  " 

"Really,  on  my  honour,  dearest;  busy  and  worried." 

"Ah,  worried?  "  she  repeated  almost  wistfully. 
"Does  a  man  ever  have  worries  that  can  be  shared?  " 

He  shook  his  head  with  a  smile.  "Business  worries. 
How  can  a  woman  share  them?  Yet  every  day  must 
bring  them  if  a  man  is  conscientious  in  his  work. " 

"Ah,  yes;  I  understand."  She  laid  her  hand  caress- 
ingly on  his  arm.  "I  shall  always  be  proud  of  you  and 
of  your  work,  Geoffrey.  I  can  guess  how  you  must 
have  worried  for  me. " 

"Naturally." 

"Ah,  but  that  is  over,"  she  said  brightly. 

"I  hope  so,"  he  replied,  forcing  his  tone  to  match 
hers.  "  Both  my  worries  about  you. " 

"Both?  " 

"That  I  might  lose  your  case,  and  that  you  might 
refuse  me." 

There  was  a  beam  of  love-light  in  her  eyes  as  she 
replied,  "One  of  your  worries  would  have  been  super- 
fluous if  I  could  have  refused  you,  Geoffrey.  Don't 
look  mystified.  Should  I  have  been  worth  worrying 
about  if  I  were  incapable  of  appreciating  all  you  are  and 
all  you  have  done  for  me?  " 

The  unconscious  irony  of  the  words  seemed  to  stab 
him.  "So  little  compared  with  what  I  should  have 


HERRIARD  STANDS  ALONE  199 

done,"  he  murmured;  "so  far  from  what  I  should 
be." 

Alexia  laughed  protestingly.  "My  dear  Geoffrey, 
you  are  abnormally,  unreasonably  modest.  That  the 
world  does  not  take  you  at  your  own  valuation  is  lucky 
for  you,  and  the  world. " 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "it  is  lucky,  at  least  for  me.  Per- 
haps if  you  took  me  at  my  own  valuation  you  would  not 
look  at  me. " 

"Geoffrey!  "  she  protested.  There  is  a  point  beyond 
which  the  self-abasement  of  the  man  she  loves  begins 
to  jar  on  a  woman. 

"Alexia,"  he  continued,  clasping  her  hands  in  his, 
"you  do  love  me?  " 

"Yes,  Geoffrey,"  she  answered  frankly,  as  her  deep 
grey  eyes  looked  into  his.  "You  know  I  love  you." 

"But  you  hardly  know  me,"  he  went  on.  "At  least 
only  as  the  world  knows  me,  from  the  show-side.  If, 
when  we  are  married  and  you  know  me  almost  as  I 
know  myself,  if  then  you  find  I  am  not  all  you  thought 
me,  if  you  find  that  what  you  call  my  modesty  was  not 
all  affectation,  that  I  stand  lower  in  your  estimation 
than  I  once  did,  will  you  love  me  then?  " 

"I  will  love  you  always,  Geoffrey,"  she  answered 
simply.  "Do  you  think  a  woman  is  ever  very  wrong 
in  her  estimation  of  a  man?  " 

"Where  love  and,  perhaps,  gratitude  are  concerned 
to  blind  her. " 

Alexia  laughed.  ''Sometimes,  where  the  woman  is 
a  fool.  I  don't  think  I  am  a  fool,  dear,  or  that  you 
are  unworthy  of  all  I  believe  you  to  be." 

Ah,  that  miserable  secret  that  lay  between  them. 
Could  he,  dared  he,  tell  her  that  all  through  the  brilliant 


200  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

career  for  which  she  admired  him  he  had  been  but  the 
mouthpiece  of  a  cleverer  brain,  and  that  man,  of  all 
others,  Paul  Gastineau?  Yet  if  the  confession  were  to 
come  at  all  it  should  in  honour  be  made  forthwith. 
Every  hour  he  delayed  it  added  lie  to  lie.  Yesterday 
he  had  thought  the  truth  of  the  matter  need  never  be 
spoken,  to-day  he  felt  that  the  disclosure  must  sooner 
or  later  be  forced  upon  him.  And  if  it  was  so  surely 
to  come,  Alexia  must  at  any  cost  learn  the  truth  from 
his  lips,  not  from  another's,  least  of  all  Gastineau's. 
Yet  he  recognized  that  their  secret  was  Gastineau's 
weapon  to  crush  Alexia's  love  for  him.  How  long 
would  it  be  before  he  made  his  existence,  his  presence 
known  to  the  woman  of  his  desire;  how  long  before  he 
dealt  that  telling  blow?  He  ought  to  forestall  him; 
here,  to  his  hand,  was  the  opportunity.  Yet,  could  he 
take  it?  It  meant,  he  told  himself,  breaking  his  oath  to 
Gastineau;  it  would  mean  trouble  and  fear  to  Alexia, 
it  might  mean  his  own  discomfiture  and  ruin.  No.  At 
that  moment  with  his  arms  round  Alexia,  with  her  sweet 
eyes  speaking  love  to  his,  with  her  kisses  on  his  lips, 
he  could  not  give  even  a  hint  that  should  mar  the  de- 
light of  the  present.  The  future  seemed  dark  enough: 
the  light  of  his  love  should  burn  till  its  extinction  was 
forced  upon  him. 

He  looked  at  Alexia,  the  prize  he  had  won,  radiant 
in  the  beauty  that  was  for  him,  and  which  was  the  index 
of  a  glorious  soul.  The  thought  of  Gastineau's  insin- 
uation against  this  adorable  woman  filled  him  with  an 
access  of  disgust.  What  lie  could  ever  lurk  beneath 
the  light  of  those  clear  grey  eyes,  which  looked  into 
his  with  a  gaze  which  shamed  the  good  fortune  he  had 
seized  under  the  shadow  of  falsehood.  Is  not  the 


HERRIARD  STANDS  ALONE  201 

charm  of  a  woman  of  honour  compared  with  the  Cir- 
cean  fascination  of  an  adventuress  as  sunlight  to  dark- 
ness? The  spell  of  Alexia's  beauty  was  upon  Herriard; 
and  not  of  her  beauty  only,  but  of  the  innate  nobility 
which  differentiated  her  in  his  eyes  from  every  other 
woman.  He  clasped  her  to  him  with  passionate  kisses, 
and  in  his  heart  vowed,  that,  cost  what  it  might,  the 
whole  world  should  not  take  this  prize  from  him;  not 
the  forces  of  right;  no,  nor  the  legions  of  evil,  whose 
well-chosen  representative  in  this  case  seemed  to  be 
Paul  Gastineau. 

"I  will  not  have  you  disparage  yourself  to  me,  dear," 
Alexia  said  presently.  They  were  standing  lover-like, 
with  hands  clasped;  the  time  of  parting  had  come,  for 
it  was  near  the  hour  of  Herriard 's  appointment  in  cham- 
bers. "You  must  not,"  she  continued,  with  her  love 
radiating  through  the  playful  reproof.  "It  reflects  on 
my  taste,  when  you  run  yourself  down. " 

"Then  I  will  not,"  he  replied,  abandoning  himself 
to  the  moment's  rapture.  "Henceforth  I  will  be  what 
you  would  have  me."  And  he  vowed  inwardly  that 
he  would  never  for  a  scruple  risk  the  loss  of  this  jewel; 
would  never  be  fool  enough  to  ring  the  doubtful  coins 
he  was  giving  for  it  that  they  might  sound  false. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  was,  still  in  the  exaltation  of  this 
wondrous  love  that  he  had  found,  speeding  away  to  a 
commonplace,  sordid  consultation  in  a  company  case. 
What  contrasts  the  world  holds,  he  thought;  and  sud- 
denly found  himself  heartily  in  agreement  with  Gas- 
tineau's  late  indictment  of  their  profession.  It  was  dif- 
ficult to  bring  his  mind  down  from  that  seventh  heaven 
to  the  mundane  level  of  advising  a  knot  of  greedy 
money-grubbers  how  to  avoid  a  certain  disgorgement 


202  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

of  undue  profits  which  threatened  them.  For  the  time 
hating  and  despising  a  profession  which  made  him,  the, 
nominally  honourable,  adviser  of  dishonest  men,  he  kept 
himself  rigidly  from  all  show  of  sympathy  with  the  sharp 
practitioners  who  sat  before  him;  and  held,  without  a 
suggestion  of  helpfulness  to  the  dry  questions  of  law 
which  were  involved.  And  when  the  smart  solicitor 
had  carried  off  his  dissatisfied  clients,  arguing  with  glib 
tenacity  the  chances  of  law  versus  equity,  he  threw  him- 
self back  in  his  chair  with  a  sigh  of  unutterable  relief 
that  the  air  of  the  room  was  purer,  and  that  he  could 
indulge  the  delight  of  his  new-found  happiness. 

Then  a  troublesome  thought  arose  to  check  the  de- 
light of  his  reverie,  his  immediate  interview  with  Gas- 
tineau,  the  time  for  which  was  almost  come.  He 
remembered  how  Gastineau  had  practically  ordered 
him  to  attend  that  evening.  It  was  galling;  behind 
the  distastefulness  was,  perhaps,  a  touch  of  apprehen- 
sion. And  indeed  a  brave  man  may  be  excused  fear 
of  the  methods  of  an  unscrupulous  opponent.  It  is 
fighting  in  the  dark,  and  courage  may  well  fail  where 
it  can  avail  nothing.  Still,  with  all  his  reluctance  to 
meet  Gastineau  under  their  altered  relationship,  Her- 
riard  was  glad  to  think  that  the  projected  interview 
might  also  show  him  where  he  stood:  he  might,  though 
it  was  unlikely,  get  an  inkling  of  Gastineau's  plans,  and 
whether  he  intended  to  resume  his  pursuit  of  Alexia. 
That  he  was  feverishly  anxious  to  know,  since  on  it 
depended  the  question  whether  or  not  he  was  to  be 
involved  in  a  terribly  unequal  struggle  with  a  man  of 
abnormal  cunning  and  determination.  Yes;  if  it  were 
to  come,  it  was  as  well  that  it  should  come  at  once; 
suspense  was  unbearable. 


HERRIARD  STANDS  ALONE  203 

Herriard  rose  and  prepared  to  go  out.  He  would 
dine  at  a  restaurant  near  at  hand,  then  start  off  for 
Mayfair  and  get  the  business  over.  As  he  opened  the 
door  of  his  chambers  a  man  stood  outside  who  raised 
his  hat  and  addressed  him  by  name. 


CHAPTER   XX 

THE    SOLUTION    OF  THE    MYSTERY 

"T  WAS  just  coming  to  see  you,  Mr.  Herriard,  from 

A  Sir  Henry  Ferrars." 

He  handed  his  card,  "  Detective  Inspector  Quickjohn, 
New  Scotland  Yard. " 

"Ah,  come  in,"  Herriard  said,  leading  the  way  back 
to  his  room,  and  closing  the  door.  "Have  you  any 
news  for  me,  Inspector?  " 

Inspector  Quickjohn  took  the  indicated  seat  and  pulled 
out  a  large  note-book,  the  orthodox  preliminary  to  police 
communications.  He  was  a  rather  smartly  dressed  man 
with  a  curious  absence  of  any  professional  stamp  upon 
him:  he  had  an  unobtrusive  manner,  quiet  almost  to 
dulness,  only  relieved  by  the  alert,  uncompromising  eyes 
and  a  general  suggestion  of  unflinching  power. 

"Well,  Mr.  Herriard,"  he  answered,  with  legal  delib- 
eration, as  he  ran  through  the  leaves  of  his  note-book, 
"I  have  certain  information  which  the  Chief  Commis- 
sioner has  instructed  me  to  give  you." 

"Ah,  yes?  "  Herriard  leaned  forward  with  eager 
attention. 

But  Inspector  Quickjohn  was  an  important  man,  and, 
withal,  a  smart,  acute  officer,  who,  with  his  twenty  years' 
training,  was  incapable  of  blurting  out  anything.  If  he 
had  discovered  another  Gunpowder  Plot  he  would  not 
have  imparted  the  information  without  a  due  amount  of 
witness-box  preliminaries  and  professional  garnishing. 

204 


THE  SOLUTION  OF  THE  MYSTERY     205 

"You  see,  sir,"  he  preambled,  in  the  logical  method 
of  a  Scotch  sermon,  "the  Chief  Commissioner  some  time 
back  placed  the  Vaux  House  case  in  my  hands,  and  I 
have  made  a  specially  careful  study  of  it." 

Herriard  nodded. 

"You  will  understand,  sir,"  Mr.  Quickjohn  went  on, 
holding  his  note-book  half  closed,  with  his  thumb  in 
the  place  to  which  he  would  in  his  own  good  time  refer, 
"it  is  a  very  difficult,  intricate  case;  one  of  the  most 
baffling  I  remember. " 

"No  doubt.  But  you  have  found  out  something?  " 
Herriard  suggested. 

Mr.  Quickjohn  was  not  to  be  bustled.  He  raised  his 
hand  in  a  deferential  appeal  for  patience. 

"The  question  as  to  who  the  person  was  at  whose 
hands  the  late  Captain  Martindale  met  his  death  has 
given  me  a  rare  lot  of  trouble.  You  see,  Mr.  Herriard, 
it  was  so  long  ago,  and  there  was,  if  I  may  say  so,  such 
a  crowd  to  choose  from. " 

"Just  so,"  Herriard  put  in,  forcing  back  the  expres- 
sion of  his  growing  impatience. 

" Primd  fade,"  continued  the  Inspector  reflectively, 
"  primd  facie,  I  should  not  have  troubled  to  look  beyond 
the  Countess  Alexia  von  Rohnburg. " 

The  declaration  brought  a  great  relief  to  Herriard. 
Somehow  there  had  been  in  his  mind  a  vague  dread 
that  the  detective  might  have  found  some  plausible 
reason  for  bringing  the  matter  home  to  Alexia. 

"No,  no,"  he  said  quickly  and  with  decision.  "The 
Countess  knew  nothing  of  the  affair. " 

Mr.  Quickjohn  felt  called  upon  to  justify  his  former 
attitude. 

"There  was  a  good  colourable  prima  facie  case,"  he 


206  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

maintained,  with  a  manner  which  claimed  that  his  long 
and  eventful  experience  entitled  to  respect  any  theory 
to  which  he  thought  proper  to  commit  himself.  ''You 
must  recollect,  Mr.  Herriard,  the  lady  in  question  was 
the  last  person  known  to  have  been  with  the  deceased 
before  his  death  was  discovered;  then  there  was  the 
finding  of  the  little  dagger  with  which  the  crime  must 
have  been  committed,  and  the  evidence  of  the  maid, 
Gibson,  that  the  Countess  had  worn  it  as  an  ornament 
in  her  hair  that  evening.  Then " 

It  was  more  than  Herriard  could  stand.  "Yes,  yes, 
Mr.  Quickjohn,"  he  interrupted  impatiently,  "we  know 
all  about  that.  I  admit  there  was  ground  for  a  prima 
facie  suspicion.  But  I  and,  presumably,  you,  know 
now  that  the  Countess  was  not  cognizable  of  Captain 
Martindale's  death.  However,  you  have  not  come  to 
tell  me  that?  You  have  found  the  man — 

Mr.  Quickjohn  raised  his  thick  hand  in  protest.  He 
liked  to  give  his  evidence  in  his  own  way,  and  judged 
leading  questions  unnecessary  and  a  mistake.  He  was 
perhaps  rather  surprised  that  a  counsel  of  Herriard's 
standing  should  not  know  better  than  to  try  and  hurry 
him.  "I  have,"  he  replied,  with  marked  deliberation 
and  a  suggestion  of  touched  dignity,  "I  have,  after  care- 
ful sifting  of  the  materials  at  my  disposal,  made  a  dis- 
covery and,  I  think,  arrived  at  a  satisfactory  settlement 
of  the  question  as  to  the  identity  of  the  person  at  whose 
hands  the  Captain  met  his  death." 

Herriard,  seeing  his  mistake,  now  merely  nodded  him 
on. 

"You  see,  sir,"  Quickjohn  proceeded,  in  his  more 
business-like,  witness-box  manner,  "the  difficulty  has 
been  in  searching  for  a  person  answering  the  description 


THE  SOLUTION  OF  THE  MYSTERY     207 

among  the  whole  list  of  the  Duchess  of  Lancashire's 
guests.  There  were  four  hundred  and  forty-two  noble- 
men and  gentlemen  invited  to  Vaux  House  that  night, 
and  no  record  available  of  those  who  attended,  those 
who  were  absent,  or  those  who  may  have  been  there 
uninvited. " 

"Yes,"  Herriard  commented,  "you  had  a  difficult 
task. " 

"Yes,  and  no  mistake,"  Quickjohn  agreed,  "and 
I  am  prepared  to  admit  that  if  it  had  not  been  through 
a  mere  chance,  I  should  never  have  been  able  to  put 
my  finger  on  the  right  individual." 

"Ah!  " 

"The  clue  came  through  the  deceased  man  Campion, 
who  was  to  have  given  evidence  in  the  late  trial.  An 
unfortunate  occurrence,  Mr.  Herriard,  Campion's  fatal 
accident,"  Quickjohn  observed,  in  a  tone  of  parentheti- 
cal regret;  "more  particularly  as  it  was  occasioned  by 
an  absolutely  mistaken  act  on  his  part. " 

"How  so?  What  do  you  mean?  "  Herriard  asked, 
in  some  surprise. 

"Well,  sir,  my  meaning  is  this,"  Quickjohn  answered 
deliberately,  with  the  superiority  of  one  who  is  sure  of 
his  facts;  "it  will  be  within  your  recollection  that  the 
deceased  man,  Campion,  deposed  before  he  died  that 
the  accident  happened  as  he  was  running  in  pursuit  of 
a  hansom  in  which  was  a  man  whom  he  asserted  he  had 
recognized  as  the  party  he  had  seen  leaving  Vaux  House 
under  suspicious  circumstances  on  the  night  of  Captain 
Martindale's  alleged  murder." 

"Yes?  " 

"Well,  Mr.  Herriard,"  pursued  Quickjohn,  with  an 
air  of  infinite  witness-box  wisdom,  "the  late  Campion 


208  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

was  quite  mistaken  in  thinking  he  had  recognized  his 
man  in  that  hansom.  He  could  not  possibly  have  done 
so,  seeing  that  the  party  whom  Campion  had  seen  es- 
caping from  Vaux  House  on  the  night  in  question  has 
been  dead  some  years. " 

"You  know  that?  "  Herriard  asked  mechanically, 
uncertain  whether  to  be  relieved  or  disappointed. 

Quickjohn  nodded.  "Met  his  death  shortly  after  the 
Vaux  House  affair.  So  it  stands  to  reason  that  he  could 
not  have  been  the  party  whom  Campion  saw  in  the 
hansom. " 

"Naturally.  And  who,"  Herriard  asked,  with  in- 
tense curiosity,  "was  the  man  we  have  been  in  search 
of,  and  who,  you  say,  is  dead?  " 

Mr.  Quickjohn  liked  to  tell  his  stories  in  his  own 
way,  and  considered  he  had  earned  the  privilege  of 
doing  so.  "Well,  sir,"  he  responded,  with  irritating 
deliberation,  "it  is  very  curious  how,  as  every  detective 
knows,  the  merest  accident  will  often  put  one  on  the 
right  scent.  And  what  I  have  to  tell  you  now,  sir, 
is  the  result  of  a  chance  remark  which  fell  from  the  late 
Campion.  It  was  this  way.  When  we  heard  at  the 
Yard  that  he  had  appeared  on  the  scene,  and  we  knew 
something  of  what  his  evidence  was  to  be,  I,  having 
charge  of  the  case,  which,  on  the  discovery  of  the  little 
weapon  at  Vaux  House,  had  been  placed  in  my  hands, 
thought  it  well  to  have  a  private  interview  with  Cam- 
pion on  my  own  account.  You  see,  Mr.  Herriard,  if 
the  Countess  was  innocent  it  was  our  business  to  find 
the  guilty  party.  So  I  got  hold  of  Campion  and  asked 
him  to  come  up  to  my  place  one  evening  and  talk  the 
matter  over  quietly.  He  comes  over  to  Brixton  and 
I  got  from  him  everything  that  could  be  of  the  slightest 


use  in  working  up  the  case.  You  see,  Mr.  Herriard," 
he  diverged  again  tantalizingly,  "  the  questions  we  should 
put  are  very  different  from  those  the  solicitors  ask;  we 
look  at  the  case  from  a  working  point  of  view.  It  was 
my  object  to  get  an  idea  whether  the  man  Campion  saw 
leaving  by  the  window  was  a  gentleman,  likely  to  have 
been  a  guest,  or  a  flash  operator  working  the  function 
for  what  he  could  pinch  in  the  way  of  jewellery,  plate, 
etc." 

"I  see." 

"I've  known  such  cases,"  Mr.  Quickjohn  resumed, 
with  a  dangerous  approach  to  reminiscence  which  hap- 
pily passed  off.  "However,  I  was  pretty  satisfied,  after 
putting  a  number  of  searching  questions,  that  the  party 
I  had  to  look  for  was  not  one  of  the  criminal  classes, 
but  in  all  probability,  a  bona  fide  guest.  Now,  a  curious 
thing  happened,  Mr.  Herriard,  which  I  did  n't  think 
much  of  at  the  time,  though  it  occurred  to  me  after- 
wards to  follow  up  the  clue.  We  were  sitting  there  in 
my  parlour  over  a  cigar  and  a  glass  of  grog,  and  I  was 
drawing  Campion  out,  trying  him  backwards  and  for- 
wards to  get  everything  he  could  tell  me  of  the  man's 
appearance  and  manner.  Well,  we  were  sitting,  as  I 
say,  in  my  parlour,  and  I  've  a  lot  of  photos  put  about 
there,  portraits  of  Judges  and  well-known  counsel  that 
I  've  come  in  contact  with  in  various  cases, — I  've  a 
framed  sketch  of  yourself,  Mr.  Herriard,  done  in  Court 
by  a  friend  of  mine  clever  with  his  pencil — well,  I  was 
worrying  Campion  about  the  very  minutest  details  of 
this  man's  appearance,  when  suddenly  he  caught  sight 
of  a  photo  on  the  wall,  and  he  says,  'There,'  he  says, 
'the  chap  I  saw  had  a  face  just  like  that,  and  if  that 

is  n't  the  man I  jumped  round  in  my  chair  and 

14 


210  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

looked  to  where  he  was  pointing.  '  That, '  I  said, '  that 's 
not  exactly  our  man,  my  friend,  although,  it  is  curious, 
I  've  never  seen  another  face  like  that.  That  is  the 
late  Mr.  Paul  Gastineau,  K.C.,  M.P. '" 

Herriard  sprang  up  from  his  chair  as  though  shot. 
"Gastineau!  " 

Mr.  Quickjohn  nodded  several  times  with  a  sugges- 
tion of  infinite  sagacity  and  astuteness.  "That's  the 
party,  sir:  although  I  laughed  at  the  idea  at  first." 

"Gastineau!  " 

Herriard's  excitement  surpassed  any  effect  Mr.  Quick- 
John  had  anticipated.  It  was  altogether  more  than  he 
could  account  for  in  a  member  of  an  even-blooded  pro- 
fession. "Strange  discoveries  we  light  upon  some- 
times," he  remarked  sententiously.  "To  think  that  a 
man  in  the  position  of  Mr.  Paul  Gastineau  could  be  the 
party  wanted.  I  can  well  understand,  sir,  you  can't 
believe  it  at  the  first  blush.  Let  me  tell  you  how  I  ar- 
rived at  my  conclusions. " 

Herriard  did  believe  it.  Somehow  he  felt  he  wanted 
no  proof.  The  charge,  monstrous  till  suggested,  seemed 
to  fit  exactly:  nothing  now  could  disprove  it. 

"  Yes,  tell  me,"  he  said,  recovering  himself  by  an  effort 
as  he  sank  down  to  his  chair  and  turned  his  strained 
face  toward  his  visitor. 

In  characteristic  matter-of-fact  fashion  Mr.  Quickjohn 
accepted  the  invitation  and  proceeded. 

"As  I  say,  I  had  no  idea  of  putting  two  and  two 
together  at  first.  My  only  conclusion  was  that  if  the 
party  wanted  had  a  singular  face,  anything-  like  the 
late  Mr.  Gastineau's,  he  would  be  easily  recognized — 
if  I  could  only  come  across  him.  Of  course  I  made  a 
note  of  the  similarity,  and  Campion  soon  after  left  me. 


THE  SOLUTION  OF  THE  MYSTERY     211 

Well,  sir,  I  did  n't  see  much  chance  of  running  across 
Mr.  Gastineau's  double,  for  such  Campion  declared  his 
man  was;  however,  I  pegged  away  at  the  case  and,  after 
a  lot  of  trouble,  got  a  full  list  of  the  gentlemen  guests 
invited  to  Vaux  House  on  the  occasion  in  question. 
Dukes  and  duchesses  are  not  the  easiest  people  in  the 
world  to  deal  with,  as  you  may  be  aware,  Mr.  Herriard. 
They  seem  to  think  their  position  puts  them  above  tak- 
ing reasonable  trouble  or  interest  in  anything.  They 
want  things  done  by  magic  and  won't  see  that  our 
methods  at  the  Yard  are  not  exactly  those  of  the  Ara- 
bian Nights.  Well,  I  did  get  the  list,  and,  on  looking 
down  it  and  wondering  how  long  it  would  take  me  to 
find  out  which  of  four  hundred  and  forty  odd  noblemen 
and  gentlemen  most  closely  resembled  Mr.  Gastineau, 
K.C.,  M.P.,  what  should  I  come  to  but  that  very  same 
gentleman's  name.  As  I  read  it,  the  idea  seemed  to 
strike  me  in  a  flash,  not  merely  why  might  n't  he  have 
done  it  after  all,  but  that  he  had  done  it.  Merely  a 
conjecture,  true,  but  I  set  to  work  on  it." 

"Yes,  that  conjecture  would  be  a  long  way  from  the 
proof,"  Herriard  observed,  with  certainty  already  in 
his  mind. 

"Naturally,"  assented  Mr.  Quickjohn,  "and  moral 
proof  is  often  far  from  legal  evidence.  However,  I  may 
say  I  have  succeeded,  after  a  lot  of  work,  in  obtaining 
corroborative  evidence  which  brings  home  the  crime, 
circumstantially  at  least,  to  the  late  Mr.  Gastineau. " 

"Ah,  yes?    Tell  me." 

"The  affair  took  place  a  long  time  ago,"  Quickjohn 
proceeded,  "and  it  is,  as  you  know,  sir,  difficult  to  get 
men  to  carry  their  memories  back  over  several  years 
to  remember  circumstances  important  enough  to  us, 


212  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

trivial  to  them.  However,  I  have  succeeded  in  tracing 
a  man,  one  of  the  Duke's  extra  footmen  he  was,  who 
distinctly  recollects  a  gentleman  answering  to  Mr.  Gas- 
tineau's  description  coming  into  the  house  without  a 
hat  or  overcoat.  The  time  of  night  would  fit  in  with 
that  of  Captain  Martindale's  death.  The  man  I  speak 
of  took  Mr.  Gastineau  for  a  late  arrival,  and  wondered 
where  he  had  come  from  without  a  hat.  His  coat  he 
might  have  left  in  his  carriage  or  even  come  without 
one,  as  it  was  a  warm  night.  That  fixed  him  in  the 
man's  mind,  but  on  these  occasions  there  is  too  much 
bustle  to  give  attention  long  to  anything,  and  he  thought 
no  more  about  it. " 

"It  is  a  good  piece  of  evidence,"  Herriard  remarked 
mechanically. 

"Yes,"  Mr.  Quickjohn  agreed,  with  a  touch  of  self- 
satisfaction.  "But  I  go  farther,  sir.  I  have  also  es- 
tablished the  fact  that  Mr.  Gastineau  left  Vaux  House 
shortly  afterwards,  having  obtained  his  hat  and  over- 
coat from  the  cloak-room,  the  overcoat  being  a  grey 
colour,  such  as  the  late  Campion  deposed  to  as  worn  by 
the  man  he  saw  the  second  time.  Now,  Mr.  Herriard," 
the  Inspector  with  a  click  put  the  elastic  band  round 
his  note-book,  which,  by  the  way,  he  had  not  referred 
to,  "that 's  as  far  as  I  have  got  at  present,  but  it  seems 
to  me  pretty  conclusive  evidence  as  far  as  it  goes,  and 
the  Chief  Commissioner  thought  you  might  like  to  know 
it." 

"Yes,  indeed;  thank  you,  Inspector,"  Herriard  re- 
sponded, indulging  the  thought  of  how  little  the  astute 
officer  guessed  of  the  real  import  to  him. 

"Of  course,"  said  that  officer,  pocketing  his  book, 
"the  case  is  not  complete,  not  nicely  rounded  off,  as 


THE  SOLUTION  OF  THE  MYSTERY     213 

I  hope  to  have  it  before  it 's  done  with.  There  is  a 
link  missing  in  the  chain,  as  no  doubt  you  perceive,  sir. " 

Herriard  did  indeed  know  it,  and  that  he  could,  if 
he  would,  supply  it. 

"The  motive?  "  he  suggested  casually. 

"That's  it,  sir,"  said  Quickjohn.  "If  I  can  only 
discover  that  Mr.  Gastineau  .and  Captain  Martindale 
had  not  been  on  the  best  of  terms,  had  had  a  difference, 
say  about  a  lady,  that  would  make  the  case  against  the 
late  Gastineau  perfect. " 

"Have  you  any  chance  of  finding  that?  " 

Mr.  Quickjohn  looked  inscrutably  wise.  "I  am  in 
hopes  of  doing  so.  But  that  will  mean  setting  to  work 
in  quite  a  fresh  direction. " 

"You  have  no  clue  as  yet?  " 

Mr.  Quickjohn  rose.  As  an  artist  he  cared  to  show 
only  his  finished  work,  and  this  was  scarcely  more  than 
blocked  in. 

"I  have  several  scources  of  information  to  tap,"  he 
replied  vaguely,  "but  nothing  to  report  as  yet.  Well, 
I  '11  say  good  evening,  Mr.  Herriard.  I  thought  you 
might  be  interested  to  hear  I  had  put  my  finger  on  the 
party,  if  one  may  say  so  of  a  deceased  man.  I  'm  only 
sorry  the  party  is  not  alive,"  he  went  on,  with  a  sus- 
picion of  jocularity.  "It  would  have  been  a  big  sensa- 
tional case  and  would  have  made  my  fortune  in  the 
profession.  There's  all  the  difference  between  a  big  crime 
in  the  upper  classes  and  the  same  in  the  lower  as  there 
is  between,  you  may  say,  the  Royal  Opera  at  Covent 
Garden  and  a  nigger  with  a  banjo  outside  a  public- 
house.  Still  I  hope  what  I  have  so  far  cleared  up  will 
be  satisfactory  to  you  and  your  late  client.  Good  even- 
ing, sir." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE   MASK   FALLS 

rflHE  door  had  closed  upon  Inspector  Quickjohn, 
A  and  Herriard  sat  motionless,  as  though  dazed 
by  this  last  turn  of  the  situation.  He  had  been  wan- 
dering blindfold  in  a  maze,  and  had  suddenly  found 
the  centre.  Or,  rather,  he  felt  as  though  he  had  been 
moving  unsuspectingly  over  the  meshes  of  a  great 
spider's  web,  had  reached  at  length  the  central  plexus, 
and  was  there  held,  uncertain  from  which  point  the 
fell  spinner  of  the  web  would  dart  down  to  attack  him. 
Which  was  the  safe  way  out  of  this  coil  of  evil?  At 
least  he  would  not  wait  paralyzed:  he  must  act. 

The  chiming  of  a  clock  warned  him  of  his  engage- 
ment to  Gastineau.  No;  he  could  not  go  there  again. 
The  man  might  not,  after  all,  be  an  actual  murderer, 
Martindale  might  have  brought  his  death  on  himself. 
Still,  if  anything  in  this  world  were  sure,  it  was  certain 
that  Paul  Gastineau  was  a  son  of  evil,  as  full  of  cunning 
malice  as  a  man  could  be.  How  should  he  meet  him 
again,  how  could  he  touch  that  guilty  hand?  Never. 
The  breach  must  be  made  at  once,  and  if  a  fight  was 
inevitable,  he  must  declare  it. 

Herriard  drew  a  case  of  telegraph  forms  towards  him 
and  filled  one  in  to  Gastineau  under  his  assumed  name. 
"Detained  in  chambers,  sorry  cannot  see  you  to-night." 
He  went  out  and  sent  it  off,  then  turned  into  a  restau- 

214 


THE  MASK  FALLS  215 

rant  hard  by  and  ate  his  dinner  with  what  appetite  was 
left  him. 

"He  killed  Martindale,"  that  was  the  one  fact  which 
kept  crying  aloud  in  his  brain.  He  could  think  of  noth- 
ing else.  How  fate  had  completed  the  circle !  He  tried 
to  analyze  the  consequences.  Was  this  knowledge  a 
weapon  in  his  hand  to  crush  Gastineau?  Yes.  No. 
At  least,  how  could  he  use  it?  Would  it  not  mean  that 
Gastineau  with  his  devilish  ingenuity  would  probably 
turn  aside  the  blow  that  looked  so  telling,  and  make  a 
swift,  fierce  counter  attack  to  his  opponent's  destruc- 
tion? How  could  he,  Herriard,  accuse  of  a  terrible 
crime  the  man  with  whom  he  had  had  such  a  question- 
able connection?  He  was  the  only  man  in  the  world 
who  knew  that  Gastineau  had  survived  his  injuries. 
What  an  incredible,  and,  indeed,  disreputable,  tale  he 
would  have  to  tell  if  he  ventured  to  speak  out. 

Underlying  the  whole  terrible  perplexity  was  a  novel 
dread  of  meeting  Gastineau.  Herriard  determined  that 
he  would  return  to  his  chambers  at  once  and  write  a 
letter  which  should  break  their  acquaintance  in  unmis- 
takable terms  once  for  all.  Fortunately  there  would 
be  no  need  to  touch  upon  this  last  reason;  Gastineau's 
expressed  opinion  of  Alexia's  guilt  was  quite  sufficient 
to  justify  her  future  husband  in  ceasing  to  be  friendly 
with  him;  indeed  it  was  the  course  which  honour  in- 
dicated. 

So,  turning  over  in  his  mind  the  most  effective  word- 
ing of  the  letter,  Herriard  walked  back  to  the  Temple. 
He  would  write  the  letter  and  post  it  at  once;  so  it 
would  be  off  his  mind,  and  the  sooner  he  could  make 
Gastineau  show  his  hand  the  sooner  would  his  suspense 
be  at  an  end. 


216  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

He  went  in,  lighted  a  lamp  and  began  the  draft  of 
his  letter,  the  most  distasteful  he  had  ever  had  to  write, 
but  as  imperative  a  task  as  it  was  repugnant.  He 
wrote:  "I  have  not  been  able  to  keep  my  appointment 
with  you  this  evening.  I  had  a  long  consultation  after 
the  Courts  rose,  and  have  been  kept  in  chambers  by 
other  business  which  I  did  not  foresee.  But  there  is 
another  reason  why  I  am  not  coming  on  to  see  you 
to-night.  Our  meetings  of  late  have  shown  me  that 
we  are  no  longer  working  harmoniously  together  as 
formerly.  Whose  the  fault  it  seems  scarcely  worth  con- 
sidering, but  the  fact  stands  that  our  differences  are 
becoming  daily  more  accentuated,  and  we  are,  above 
all,  seriously  at  issue  upon  one,  to  me,  most  vital  point. 
I  think,  then,  that  it  is  time  our  connection  came  to  an 
end,  as  our  friendship  seems  already  to  have  done. 
Your  restoration  to  health  and  active  life  obviates  any 
reproach  which  I  might  otherwise  incur.  The  time  for 
separation  is  apt,  and  you  will  understand  that  I  could 
not  continue  to  meet  on  terms  of  friendship  a  man 
who  accuses  of  a  terrible  crime  the  woman  who  will 
shortly  be  my  wife  and  of  whose  innocence  I  am  abso- 
lutely convinced.  This  determination,  to  which  I  see 
no  alternative,  in  no  way  contradicts  the  sense  of  my 
obligations  to  you.  Your  advice  and  help  in —  "  he 
stopped.  He  could  hardly  be  churlish  enough  to  part 
from  Gastineau  without  an  acknowledgment  of  all  he 
owed  him.  And  yet  was  it  wise  or  safe  to  put  down 
that  indebtedness  in  black  and  white,  and  give  it  to 
this  abnormally  unscrupulous  man? 

Herriard's  whole  legal  training  and  experience  told  him 
it  was  rash  and  dangerous,  nothing  less  than  the  forging 
of  a  very  effective  weapon  to  be  used  against  himself. 


THE  MASK  FALLS  217 

Yet  if  the  fact  of  their  partnership  was  ever  to  be 
brought  up  against  him,  he  told  himself,_he  would  not 
deny  it,  even  could  he  do  so  successfully.  He  had  done 
with  him  now,  he  was  resolved;  and  by  the  truth  he 
stood  ready  to  atone  for  what  had  been  false  in  his 
career.  Still  that  was  no  reason  why  he  need  make 
his  acknowledgments  to  Gastineau  in  so  explicit  a  form 
that  all  the  world  might  comprehend  exactly  what  their 
connection  had  been.  He  drew  his  pen  through  the 
last  words  of  the  draft  and  began  the  passage  again. 

"To  your  advice — 

A  knock  came  at  the  outer  door.  It  startled  him 
disagreeably,  ominously.  He  laid  down  his  pen,  won- 
dering who  this  late  visitor  could  be.  Opening  the  door 
he  found  himself  face  to  face  with  the  man  on  whom 
he  would  have  been  glad  never  to  set  eyes  again. 

"You,  Gastineau?  "  he  exclaimed,  in  a  negative  tone. 

"I,"  came  the  almost  jeering  response.  "I  hope  I 
have  not  startled  you. " 

As  Herriard  drew  back,  Gastineau  walked  past  him 
into  the  entrance  lobby  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  could 
dispense  with  an  invitation  and  would  take  no  refusal. 
Herriard  closed  the  door,  and,  indicating  the  way,  fol- 
lowed him  into  the  room. 

"So  you  would  not  come  to  see  me,  Mr.  Herriard," 
Gastineau  said,  with  a  sneer,  as  he  turned  abruptly, 
his  keen  eyes  taking  in  all  that  was  in  the  room.  "It 
was,  however,  necessary  that  I  should  confer  with  you 
to-night — you  know  how  I  hate  procrastination — so  I 
have  come  to  see  you.  I  wonder  what  the  business 
was  that  kept  you  here.  The  composition  of  a  love- 
letter?  " 

The  man's  contemptuous,  malignant  tone  seemed  to 


218  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

touch  the  utmost  limits  of  a  sneer.  His  quick  glance 
had  noticed  the  letter  to  himself,  which  lay  half  written 
on  the  desk. 

"No,"  Herriard  answered  quietly;  "not  a  love- 
letter.  " 

" That 's  well, "  Gastineau  returned,  "for  it  is  about 
this  love  affair  of  yours  that  I  want  to  talk  to  you. " 

"  Holding  as  we  do  such  different  opinions  of  Countess 
Alexia,  I  would  rather  the  subject  were  not  mentioned 
between  us,"  Herriard  replied.  He  felt  that  the  crisis 
had  come,  and  that  it  would  not  do  for  him  to  show 
weakness.  He  must  face  this  man,  and,  after  all,  with 
the  knowledge  just  gained,  he  was  not  defenceless. 

"But,"  objected  Gastineau,  in  his  quick,  peremptory 
way,  "it  must  be  mentioned.  You  say  we  are  at  issue 
upon  the  subject.  We  are — more  seriously  than  you 
suppose.  And  for  that  very  reason  we  must  come  to 
an  understanding,  and  without  delay." 

He  had  taken  his  stand  opposite  Herriard  on  the 
farther  side  of  the  writing  table,  ignoring  the  chair 
which  the  other  had  pulled  round  for  him. 

"Very  well,  then,"  Herriard  responded  simply. 

Gastineau  took  out  a  cigarette  and  lighted  it  thought- 
fully, with  the  air  of  a  man  considering  how  best  he 
should  frame  what  he  had  to  say.  Herriard  sat  and 
watched  him  in  expectant  silence. 

"The  case  I  have  to  put  to  you,  my  dear  Herriard, 
is  somewhat  involved,"  Gastineau  began,  in  a  tone 
whose  lightness  rather  surprised  his  listener;  "and  I 
shall  have  to  touch  upon  a  subject  or  two  which  I 
would  rather  avoid.  But,  you  see,  when  a  man  per- 
forms the  feat  of  a  veritable  resurrection  such  as  mine 
he  is  bound  to  find  the  line  of  his  life  tangled  into  cer- 


THE  MASK  FALLS  219 

tain  awkward  complications.  That  is  inevitable;  you 
will  grant  that?  " 

The  demand  was  made  in  the  same  easy,  buoyant 
tone.  Herriard  nodded. 

"No  doubt  it  is,"  he  answered  curtly. 

"  So  long  as  I  lay  in  my  living  grave  on  that  couch, " 
pursued  Gastineau,  exhaling  a  long  whiff  of  smoke,  "I 
looked  upon  my  past  life,  my  former  existence  as  a 
closed  book.  I  anticipated  no  reason  ever  to  unclasp 
it.  But  I  reckoned  without  our  Dr.  Hallamar. " 

"Yes,"  Herriard  responded,  as  the  other  man  paused. 

"Now,"  Gastineau  continued,  always  in  his  tone  of 
airy  argument,  "it  being  agreed  that  my  coming  to 
active  life  again  must  upset  all  calculations,  the  ques- 
tion, among  others,  of  its  interference  with  our  recip- 
rocal arrangement,  our  partnership,  comes  up." 

"Naturally,"  Herriard  acquiesced  readily. 

"  Naturally. "  Gastineau  took  up  the  word.  "  I  wake 
to  life  to  find  you  filling  the  place  which  rightly  belongs 
to  me,  and  which  I  want,  or,  at  least,  might  want  to 
occupy  myself. " 

"Yes,"  replied  Herriard  quietly,  "and  which  in  com- 
mon justice  I  should  have  no  wish  to  keep  from  you." 

Gastineau  took  the  cigarette  from  his  lips  with  a  dep- 
recating wave  of  the  hand.  "Don't  be  in  a  hurry,  Mr. 
Geoffrey  Herriard,"  he  said,  with  a  patronizing  laugh. 
"I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  I  want  your  place,  and  if  I 
did,  I  fancy  there  is  room  in  the  world,  legal  and  polit- 
ical, for  both  of  us.  It  is  not  there,  in  the  House,  or 
at  the  Bar,  that  we  are  likely  to  be  rivals. " 

Naturally  he  would  not  guess  how  clear  the  signifi- 
cance of  his  last  words  was  to  Herriard  who  sat  watch- 
ing and  wondering  what  place  there  could  be  in  the 


220  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

world  for  this  callous,  gibing  man-slayer.  "I  don't  see 
why  we  should  be  rivals  at  all,"  he  observed  tentatively. 

Gastineau  was  lighting  another  cigarette.  "No,  my 
dear  fellow,  you  don't.  Because  the  book  I  just  spoke 
of  has  been  kept  closed  to  you.  I  must  open  it  at  a 
certain  page,  and  show  you  why." 

"Yes?  " 

Gastineau  took  a  step  forward  and  seated  himself 
on  the  corner  of  the  writing  table.  He  was  half  turned 
away  from  Herriard.  For  a  few  seconds  he  smoked 
meditatively  and  there  was  silence  between  them.  At 
length  he  spoke.  "Once  upon  a  time,  before  my  ill- 
luck,"  he  laughed, — "I  refer  to  the  railway  accident — 
brought  me  into  connection  with  Mr.  Geoffrey  Herriard, 
I  was  in  love,  deeply  in  love,  with  a  certain  lady  whom 
I  will  name  in  a  moment.  When  I  became  dead  to  the 
world  all  idea  of  that  sort  of  thing  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion; but  the  status  quo  has  very  strangely  and  unex- 
pectedly cropped  up  again.  You  have  followed?  Since 
our  acquaintance,  my  mantle  has  fallen  upon  the  said 
Mr.  Geoffrey  Herriard,  and  on  the  whole  he  has  worn 
it  worthily.  It  is  curious  that  he  should  moreover  have 
lighted  upon  a  certain  favour  which  I  had  proposed  to 
pin  to  the  said  mantle,  and  had  lost.  My  friend  is  wel- 
come to  keep  the  serviceable  cloak,  but  the  particular 
ornament  with  which  he  proposes  to  adorn  it  I  must 
ask  him  to  give  up." 

He  paused,  and  a  dead,  tense  silence  followed.  Gas- 
tineau smoked  on  nonchalantly,  waiting  for  the  other 
man  to  speak. 

At  length  the  reply  came  in  a  low  voice. 

"You  ask  me  to  give  it  up  on  the  assumption  that 
you  have  more  right  to  it  than  I?  " 


THE  MASK  FALLS  221 

Gastineau  nodded.     "  Just  so. " 

"I  deny  it." 

Gastineau  rose  to  his  feet  and  flung  the  cigarette- 
end  into  the  fire-place.  "I  was  afraid  you  might,"  he 
said  coolly,  as  he  turned  and  faced  Herriard;  then  added, 
"afraid  for  your  sake,  not  my  own." 

The  preliminaries  were  over  now,  and  the  fight  was 
to  begin  in  real  earnest.  Nevertheless  Gastineau's  man- 
ner was  as  cool  and  easy  as  ever.  It  was  like  a  light 
comedian  playing,  with  his  characteristic  methods,  a 
strong,  dramatic  part. 

"I  deny,"  Herriard  repeated,  leaning  back  and  meet- 
ing his  look,  "I  deny  that  the  prior  claim  you  allege 
is  valid." 

"Allege?  " 

"Allege.  Were  you  ever  engaged  to  the  Countess 
Alexia  von  Rohnburg?  " 

"Practically,  yes." 

"I  take  upon  myself  to  deny  that  also."  How  he 
had  come  to  loathe  this  man  whose  manifest  character 
fitted  in  every  moment  more  closely  with  his  recently 
gained  knowledge  of  him. 

"You  do?  "  Gastineau  laughed,  but  it  was  an  ugly 
laugh  now.  "On  what  grounds,  pray?  " 

"I  think,"  Herriard  answered,  "the  Countess  Alexia 
would  support  my  denial.  Anyhow,  I  am  content  to 
maintain  my  position  on  the  assumption  that  she  was 
never  engaged  to  you. " 

"And  if  you  find  you  are  wrong?  " 

"  To  retire  in  your  favour,  at  the  Countess's  bidding. " 

"I  think,"  Gastineau  returned,  in  a  set  tone  of  de- 
termination, "  we  need  not  wait  for  that. " 

Herriard  thought  of  Alexia,  then  of  the  man  before 


222  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

him,  and  his  obvious  intention  to  renew  the  old  perse- 
cution. He  rose  and  faced  him. 

"I  do  not  understand  you,  Gastineau, "  he  said  stead- 
ily. "You  say  you  believe  Countess  Alexia  guilty  of 
Martindale's  death,  yet  it  seems  you  want  to  marry 
her." 

Gastineau  gave  an  ugly  laugh,  the  scoffing,  derisive 
note  of  intellectual  evil.  "Why  not,  my  good  Her- 
riard?  L'un  n'empeche  pas  I'autre.  The  devil  in  a 
woman  has  an  irresistible  attraction  for  some  men; 
men  of  a  certain  enterprise  and  courage.  You  remem- 
ber the  notorious  Raymond  case?  I  forget  the  average 
number  of  offers  of  marriage  Mrs.  Raymond  received 
every  day  during  the  inquest  and  trial.  The  Countess 
is  much  more  suited  to  be  my  wife  than  yours.  Any- 
how, I  mean  to  claim  her." 

Herriard  flushed  with  indignation.  Alexia  the  wife 
of  this  cold-blooded  schemer,  this  incarnation  of  mili- 
tant spite?  The  idea  was  hideous,  unbearable. 

"The  Countess  Alexia  is  engaged  to  me,"  he  said  with 
restraint.  "I  do  not  mean  to  give  her  up  to  you  or 
any  man. " 

Gastineau  just  let  his  eyes  rest  on  Herriard 's  face 
for  an  instant.  Then,  laughing,  he  turned  and  lighted 
another  cigarette.  "I  am  sorry  to  hear  it  for  your  own 
sake,  my  dear  Geoffrey,"  he  replied,  with  the  danger- 
ous suavity  of  the  feline's  velvet  paw.  "You  mean  to 
fight?  " 

Herriard  laughed  now,  bitterly  enough. 

"You  surely  can  scarcely  expect  me  to  give  up  the 
Countess  at  your  cool  request. " 

Gastineau  shrugged.  "Perhaps  not,"  he  returned 
slowly.  "It  may  need  more  than  a  request.  In  the 


THE  MASK  FALLS  223 

meantime — you  are  an  ungrateful  dog,  Geoffrey  Her- 
riard.  It  only  shows  even  I  can  be  a  fool  sometimes; 
I  actually  thought  I  might  expect  gratitude  from  you." 

"I  am  grateful,  very  grateful  to  you,"  Herriard  re- 
turned sturdily.  "I  am  fully  sensible  of  all  you  have 
done  for  me  and  of  the  debt  I  owe  you.  But  when  you 
talk  of  my  giving  up  to  you  the  woman  who  is  going 
to  be  my  wife  you  are  asking  more  than  is  reasonable, 
you  are  asking  me  to  pay  you  by  robbing  another. " 

"Indeed?  "  Gastineau,  still  in  his  mood  of  devilish 
coolness,  raised  his  brows  in  a  sneer.  "I  did  not  think 
it  was  at  bad  as  that.  What  a  change  the  point  of 
view  makes.  Now  my  idea  is  that  I  am  simply  asking 
you,  in  return  for  the  benefits  you  have  received  from 
me,  not  to  make  a  fuss  about  returning  some  lost  prop- 
erty of  mine  which  you  have  accidentally  found." 

"I  must  deny  that,"  Herriard  returned,  with  set 
face. 

"Deny  what?"  was  the  bland  inquiry. 

"That  the  property,  that  the  Countess  Alexia,  ever 
was  yours. " 

Gastineau's  face  assumed  a  look  of  tolerant  protest. 
It  was  as  though  he  were  considering  what  argument 
he  could  use  with  a  man  whose  reasoning  was  so 
dense  and  trivial.  So  for  a  few  moments  he  smoked  in 
silence.  Then  he  asked,  "She  has  told  you  so?  " 

"Practically." 

"Ah!  "  Gastineau  affected  to  see  his  way  clear  once 
more.  "The  Countess  has  mentioned  my  name  to 
you?  " 

"Yes." 

The  other  nodded  receptively.  "What,  may  I  ask, 
has  she  told  you?  " 


224  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

The  question  was  pertinent  enough;  more  critical 
than  Gastineau  let  his  manner  indicate. 

"Merely,"  Herriard  answered,  "that  you  made  love 
to  her,  and  that  she  did  not  return  the  feeling.  That 
should  explain  my  refusal  to  yield  my  claim  to  yours. " 

"It  might,"  Gastineau  sneered,  "to  a  shallow  mind." 
Manifestly,  he  was  pricked  disagreeably  by  Herriard 's 
pointed  answer;  his  coolness  was  now  maintained  by 
an  effort.  "You  might,"  he  continued,  "by  this  have 
known  me  better  than  to  suppose  that  I  should  allow 
myself  to  be  defrauded  of  what  I  choose  to  set  my 
heart  upon.  But  we  shall  see.  So  the  Countess  told 
you  she  did  not  reciprocate  my  feeling.  That  was  a 
somewhat  gratuitous  and  easy  statement  to  make  about 
a  dead  man.  Don't  you  think  so.  By  the  way,"  he 
gave  Herriard  no  time  to  answer  the  question,  fixing 
his  piercing  eyes  upon  him  with  the  look  that  seemed 
to  penetrate  all  prevarication,  all  evasion,  to  scorch  up 
the  mere  fencing  of  the  tongue,  "I  presume  the  Countess 
has  no  idea  that  I  am  alive?  " 

"None,"  came  the  ready  answer.  "She  certainly 
believes  you  to  be  dead. " 

Obviously  frank  though  the  reply  was,  Gastineau 
demanded  again,  "You  have  not  told  her  that  I  am 
alive?  " 

"No,  I  tell  you." 

"  Or  even  half  alive?  " 

"No,  no.     I  should  be  sorry  to. " 

"Would  you?  "  he  snapped  suspiciously.     "Why?  " 

The  question  was  an  awkward  one,  seeing  that  Her- 
riard had  no  desire  to  irritate  Gastineau  unnecessarily. 
He  gave  a  shrug.  "It  might  cause  her  the  embarrass- 
ment of  an  unpleasant  arnkre  pensee. " 


THE  MASK  FALLS  225 

"Why  embarrassment?  Why  unpleasant?  "  The 
sharp  questions  came  with  the  insistence  not  merely 
of  a  keen  cross-examiner,  but  of  a  jealous  man. 

"The  thought  that  she  could  never  return  your  affec- 
tion/' Herriard  answered,  as  plausibly  as  he  could. 

"That,"  Gastineau  returned,  with  quiet  incisiveness, 
"is  a  matter  you  may  leave  to  me. " 

The  cool  superiority  of  his  tone  stung  Herriard,  giv- 
ing him  the  necessary  spur  to  stand  up  to  his  dangerous 
adversary.  "Understand,  Gastineau,"  he  retorted, 
"that  I  decline  to  leave  it  to  you." 

"You  do?" 

"As  Countess  Alexia's  affianced  husband,  I  do — 
naturally. " 

"Naturally!  "  Gastineau  repeated  the  word  with 
an  infinity  of  mocking  scorn.  "You  would.  It  was 
only  to  be  expected.  And,  as  the  expected,  I  am  pre- 
pared to  meet  it." 

"Very  well,"  Herriard  replied.  "We  now  know  how 
we  stand.  I  am,  at  least,  glad  you  pay  me  the  com- 
pliment of  anticipating  that  I  should  not  be  ready  to 
give  up  the  Countess." 

"It  is  scarcely  a  compliment  from  my  point  of  view," 
Gastineau  rejoined,  with  a  vicious  drawing  back  of  the 
lips  into  the  semblance  of  a  smile.  "If  you  were  not 
a  fool,  Geoffrey  Herriard,  you  would  know  better  than 
to  oppose  yourself  to  a  man  who  lets  nothing  thwart 
him. " 

"We  may  be  equally  determined  in  this  affair,"  Her- 
riard returned  with  restraint;  "you  to  persecute  the 
Countess,  I  to  protect  her. " 

"Persecute?  "  Gastineau  cried,  with  a  short,  high- 
pitched  laugh.  "  Persecute  is  a  strong  word,  Herriard. " 
15 


226  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"Yet,  I  fancy,  the  correct  one." 

"Where  did  you  learn  it?    From  the  Countess?  " 

"Perhaps." 

Gastineau  drew  in  his  breath  sharply  through  his 
clenched  teeth.  "Very  well.  And  so  we  are  going  to 
fight.  My  last  piece  of  advice  to  my  apt  pupil,"  he 
sneered,  "might  be  to  consider  the  consequences  of  join- 
ing issue  with  a  man  who,  he  knows,  never  submits  to 
defeat,  who,  he  might  imagine,  will  let  nothing  stand 
in  his  way,  even  a  life,  when  once  his  resolve  is  taken. " 

"I  quite  understand  that;  it  needs  no  effort  of  the 
imagination,"  Herriard  retorted,  as  for  a  moment  his 
temper  and  his  repugnance  for  the  man  who,  with  such 
glib  assurance,  stood  threatening  him,  got  the  better 
of  his  restraint. 

The  slight  hit  told.  The  only  question  was  whether 
it  had  not  been  a  chance  one  from  a  bow  drawn  at  a 
venture.  Into  Gastineau's  eyes  there  sprang  that  fierce 
look  of  piercing  enquiry  which  was  characteristic  of  the 
man's  avid  mind.  "You  know  that,"  he  snarled,  the 
effort  at  sneering  coolness  ousted  by  the  obtrusion  of 
a  dark  suspicion.  "You  know  that,"  he  repeated  in- 
solently, "do  you?  " 

But  the  other  man  was  now  on  his  guard.  "Evi- 
dently, by  your  own  showing,  I  ought  to  believe  you 
capable  of  anything, "  he  answered,  with  almost  a  sneer 
bred  of  his  consciousness  of  power  in  reserve. 

"You  meant  more  than  that,"  Gastineau  insisted. 

"Could  I  mean  more  than  that?  "  came  the  obvious 
retort. 

Gastineau  for  a  moment  was  silent.  Only  his  fierce 
eyes  seemed  to  scorch  into  Herriard 's  mind,  to  read 
the  working  of  his  secret  soul. 


THE  MASK  FALLS  227 

Then  with  a  snatch  he  took  up  his  hat.  "Enough 
of  this,"  he  exclaimed  with  vicious  impatience.  "I  am 
never  sorry  when  words  fail  and  we  come  to  action. 
I  have  your  answer,  Herriard?  You  will  not  break  off 
this  engagement  and  make  way  for  me?  " 

"Decidedly  not.  The  question  is  hardly  worth  an- 
swering. " 

The  words,  considering  to  whom  spoken,  were  bold, 
but  Gastineau  seemed  scarcely  to  hear  them.  On  his 
way  towards  the  door  he  had  moved  round  to  the  side 
of  the  writing  table.  His  eyes  were  fixed  upon  a  card 
which  lay  on  it,  a  card  which  announced  the  visit  of 
Detective  Inspector  Quick  John.  Herriard  had  gone 
towards  the  door  to  open  it,  and  now  turned  to  see 
why  his  visitor  lingered.  Gastineau's  glance  had  shifted 
from  Quickjohn's  card  to  the  unfinished  letter  to  him- 
self which  still  lay  open  on  the  desk.  In  an  instant 
he  had  grasped  the  fact  that  he  had  surprised  Herriard 
in  the  act  of  writing  to  him. 

"A  letter  to  me,"  he  exclaimed,  as  with  a  swift  move- 
ment he  caught  up  the  paper.  "I  may  read  it,  and  so 
save  trouble,  or,  at  least,  delay. "  As  he  spoke  his  eyes 
were  rapidly  running  down  the  page.  The  purport  of 
the  letter  was  already  his  when  Herriard  put  forth  a 
protesting  hand. 

"  It  is  of  no  importance  now, "  he  said  hastily.  "Your 
visit  has  rendered  it  needless  for  me  to  write. " 

But  Gastineau  kept  the  paper  from  the  other's  hand. 
His  face  as  he  read  grew  dark  and  sneering,  and  a  sneer 
was  but  that  cynic's  handy  mask.  "It  is  written  to 
me,  intended  for  me,"  he  maintained,  turning  to  evade 
Herriard 's  effort  to  snatch  the  letter.  "I  have  surely 
a  right  to  read  it. " 


228  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"You  have  none,"  Herriard  objected. 

The  sharp  eyes  had  got  the  pith  of  the  letter,  and 
Gastineau  threw  it  on  the  table.  "So!  "  He  seemed 
to  reflect  for  a  few  moments,  to  be  making  a  swift 
resolve.  Herriard,  intending  to  let  him  out,  had  left 
the  door  ajar.  Gastineau  moved  suddenly  forward, 
and,  instead  of,  as  the  other  expected,  passing  out,  he 
quickly  shut  the  door  and  locked  it. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE    STRUGGLE 

IT  was  all  done  in  one  swift  action;  the  outcome 
of  a  planned  determination.  As  Gastineau  turned, 
Herriard  saw  that  the  scoffing  contemptuous  coolness 
had  gone:  his  expression  now  was  more  that  of  a  feline 
animal  on  the  spring.  The  thought  uppermost  in  his 
mind  now  was,  "Is  it  possible  that  I  ever  called  this 
man  my  friend?  "  He  saw  a  crisis  had  come;  how  his 
letter  should  have  hastened  and  accentuated  it  he  could 
not  comprehend.  But  that  was  due  to  the  slower  power 
of  perception  in  his  own  mind  compared  with  his  ad- 
versary's. 

There  was  a  curiously  set  look  of  relentless  purpose 
in  Gastineau's  eyes  as  he  turned;  one  which,  among  all 
the  varying  expressions  he  had  noticed,  Herriard  had 
never  seen  there  before.  It  was  the  look  with  which  a 
Prelate  of  the  Inquisition  might  have  watched  a  victim 
in  the  torture  chamber. 

"A  reckoning  between  us,  Mr.  Herriard,  seems  more 
pressing  than  I  had  supposed."  He  spoke  with  tight 
lips  just  opening  enough  to  clip  out  the  words.  Her- 
riard said  nothing;  only  stood  watchfully  expectant 
with,  now,  a  thought  of  Martindale's  fate  suggesting 
itself.  So  he  waited  for  the  other  to  declare  the  inten- 
tion that  was  manifestly  in  his  mind. 

Gastineau  stood  with  his  hands  behind  him;  pale, 
229 


230  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

thin  almost  to  frailness,  but  the  very  embodiment  of 
mental  boldness;  the  courage  of  the  head,  that  can  un- 
hesitatingly attack  greater  strength  of  body. 

"So,"  he  said  slowly,  "the  business  that  kept  you 
away  from  Devereux  Street  to-night  was  the  writing 
of  a  letter  to  say  you  could  not  come." 

"Hardly  that." 

"  Perhaps  your  visitor  detained  you, "  Gastineau  con- 
tinued, in  a  key  which  was  the  prelude  of  mischief, 
the  muttering  of  a  coming  storm.  "Your  visitor,"  he 
pointed  to  the  card,  "Detective — what's  his  name? — 
Quickjohn.  I  do  not  quite  understand  you,  Mr.  Her- 
riard.  May  I  ask  what  Inspector  Quickjohn  came  to 
see  you  about?  " 

"About  the  Vaux  House  business,"  Herriard  an- 
swered curtly. 

"Ah!     Why  does  he  come  to  see  you  about  it?  " 

"Sir  Henry  Ferrars  sent  him.  He  knows  I  am  in- 
terested in  the  case." 

"And  what  had  he  to  tell  you?  " 

"Pardon  me,  Gastineau;  I  think  we  agreed  that  the 
subject  should  not  be  discussed  between  us." 

"Perhaps,"  he  replied  insistently.  "But  my  inter- 
est is  now  at  least  equal  to  yours,  through  the  same 
source,  the  Countess  Alexia.  What  did  Quickjohn  come 
to  tell  you?  " 

Evasion  was  difficult  under  the  searchlight  of  those 
transfixing  eyes,  but  the  whole  truth  could  not  be 
told.  "He  came  to  say,"  Herriard  answered,  "that  he 
is  following  the  matter  up. " 

"With  what  result?  " 

"No  definite  result  at  present." 

"He  took  the  trouble  to  come  and  tell  you  that?  " 


THE  STRUGGLE  231 

Gastineau  was  holding  him  to  the  point  with  a  greater 
than  professional  tenacity. 

"I  had  told  them  at  Scotland  Yard  that  they  seemed 
inclined  to  let  the  case  drop." 

Gastineau  paused,  but  his  was  the  silence  of  disbe- 
lief. He  took  a  few  sharp,  impatient  steps  to  his  former 
position.  Then  spoke  abruptly,  his  viciousness  smould- 
ering and  ever  ready  to  burst  into  flame.  "Shall  I  tell 
you  what  I  think  of  you,  Geoffrey  Herriard?  " 

Herriard  shrugged.     "I  do  not  care." 

"What,"  Gastineau  went  on,  ignoring  the  reply, 
"I  think  of  you  by  the  light  of  your  recent  conduct 
towards  me,  the  man  who  made  you,  the  man  who  can, 
and  will,  unmake  you?  " 

"I  have  nothing  to  reproach  myself  with,"  Herriard 
said,  beginning  to  tire  of  the  scene. 

"That,"  retorted  Gastineau,  "shows  you  in  a  more 
contemptible  light  still. "  The  fire  was  glowing  now, 
any  instant  might  bring  the  flame.  "You  think  your- 
self a  clever  fellow,  Herriard,  but  your  really  clever 
man  discriminates.  He  does  not  play  tricks  upon  men 
cleverer  than  himself." 

"I  am  not  aware  that  I  have  tried  to  play  a  trick 
on  you,  Gastineau. " 

"No?  What  do  you  call  the  withholding  your  knowl- 
edge of  the  one  man  in  Europe  who  could  cure  me?  " 

"I  did  not.     I- 

Gastineau  stopped  him  with  a  sharp,  impatient  ges- 
ture. "Don't  trouble  to  deny  it.  You  met  and  knew 
Hallamar  weeks,  months,  before  it  suited  you  to  men- 
tion him  to  me.  Oh,  don't  protest:  I  have  neither 
time  nor  inclination  to  listen  to  your  lies.  I  don't 
blame  you.  I  might  have  done  the  same  in  your  place. 


232  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

My  being  a  helpless  cripple,  a  man  with  both  feet  lit- 
erally in  the  grave,  a  brain  without  a  body,  meant 
everything  to  you.  You  played  your  game,  taking  the 
risk,  and  lost  it;  lost  it  through  a  miscalculation  of  our 
respec  ti ve  smartness . ' ' 

"You  are  wrong,  Gastineau,  utterly,"  Herriard  broke 
in  with  indignation. 

"Am  I?  "  he  returned,  with  a  sneer.  "I  know  you, 
Geoffrey  Herriard,  better,  possibly,  than  you  know  your- 
self. You  have  been  playing  a  dangerous  game;  are 
playing  it  still;  but  you  have  made  more  than  one  false 
move,  and  the  game  is  lost.  There  only  remains  for 
you  to  pay. " 

He  stopped;  shutting  his  lips  with  the  suggestion  that 
he  had  no  more  to  say.  The  pause  of  that  dark,  evil 
mind,  between  speech  and  action,  was  like  the  crouch- 
ing of  a  tiger  for  its  spring;  like  the  breathless  hold-up 
which  precedes  the  first  flash  of  a  storm.  Gastineau 
stood  facing  Herriard  with  a  world  of  concentrated  ma- 
lignity blazing  in  his  eyes,  the  tokens  of  the  fiery  soul 
behind  them.  Herriard  waited,  nervously  alert.  He  saw 
the  futility  of  protesting  against  the  charges;  this  man 
was  his  enemy,  whose  cue  and  desire  it  was  to  quarrel; 
a  struggle,  terrible,  perhaps  to  the  death,  was  inevitable. 

For  some  moments  the  two  men  watched  each  other, 
the  one  seeming  to  cast  about  for  an  opening  for  attack, 
the  other  apprehensively  strung  for  defence.  Surely 
that  keen,  active  brain  would  not  need  to  wait  long. 
No.  Gastineau's  lips  parted,  showing  the  white  teeth, 
still  set  as  he  spoke  through  them,  spoke  as  with  a 
purpose  of  making  an  end  quickly. 

"You  were  writing  that  letter  to  me" — he  pointed 
to  it — "after  your  interview  with  Quickjohn.  Why?  " 


THE  STRUGGLE  233 

"  I  had  no  time  to  write  before. " 

"But  you  were  coming — don't  fence,  it  is  waste  of 
time — you  were  coming  to  my  house  this  evening,  or 
you  would  have  telegraphed  earlier. " 

"No,"  Herriard  replied  watchfully.  "I  had  my 
doubts  as  to  whether  it  would  serve  any  good  purpose, 
and  meant  to  have  written  before. " 

"I  wish  you  would  understand,"  Gastineau  said  cut- 
tingly, "that  there  is  nothing  gained  by  lying  to  me. 
Accepting  your  statement  for  what  it  may  be  worth, 
Quickjohn  told  you  something  that  clenched  your  de- 
cision? " 

Each  man's  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  other's;  Herriard 's 
held  to  Gastineau's  by  the  fascination  of  the  evil  and 
danger  they  signalled. 

"Did  he?  did  he?  "  The  question  came  hissed  out 
with  sharp  insistence.  For  Herriard,  posed  by  the  di- 
rect challenge,  hesitated,  at  a  loss  for  the  moment  as 
to  the  course  he  should  take. 

"You  believe  nothing  I  say;  I  will  say  nothing." 

"Pouf!  "  It  was  a  poor  evasion,  and  the  strong  man 
blew  it  aside  with  a  contemptuous  exclamation.  "Just 
realize  the  position,  Herriard,"  he  said;  "the  position 
in  which  you  stand.  I  am  a  dead  man;  a  man  with 
no  known  or  legally  recognized  existence.  As  such,  I 
am  all-powerful,  and,  with  my  brains,  intangible. " 

"So  long,"  Herriard  found  courage  to  retort,  "as  I 
do  not  proclaim  your  existence. " 

"Precisely."  The  look  on  Gastineau's  face,  as  he 
nodded  a  ready  acquiescence,  told  Herriard  he  had 
spoken  rashly.  "So  long.  And  the  longer  the  better 
for  me.  In  short,  it  would  be  to  my  interest  that  your 
silence  should  last  till  the  Day  of  Judgment. " 


234  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"I  have  no  intention  of  breaking  it,"  Herriard  said, 
as  coolly  as  his  nerves  allowed. 

"I  might  doubt  that,"  Gastineau  returned,  "when 
I  find  you  and  the  celebrated  Inspector  Quick  John 
putting  your  heads  together.  They  say  two  heads  are 
better  than  one,  but  that  depends  upon  the  heads.  I 
think  I  will  back  mine  against  yours  and  Quickjohn's. 
Now,  if  you  hope  to  leave  this  room  alive,  which  is 
entirely  my  affair,  just  say  what  that  fellow  told  you 
about  me. " 

He  looked  at  his  watch,  and  coolly  replaced  it.  Her- 
riard found  himself  asking  whether,  after  all,  he  was 
not  being  made  the  victim  of  a  transcendent  piece  of 
bluff.  Gastineau's  acuteness  and  penetration  were  man- 
ifest enough;  but  his  power?  Had  not  he  himself  the 
whip  hand,  if  only  he  would  not  let  it  be  paralyzed  by 
the  stronger  brain?  His  enemy  was  but  a  head-fighter, 
a  tongue  duellist;  there  was  a  clever  suggestion  of  some- 
thing more;  but  if  it  came  to  that,  to  physical  force, 
the  advantage  would  be  the  other  way. 

"Quickjohn  knows  nothing  about  you,"  he  said 
shortly,  throwing  off  the  vague  fear  that  had  possessed 
him.  "He  is  as  ignorant  as  the  rest  of  the  world  that 
you  are  alive.  Now,  may  I  ask  you  to  go?  I  have 
had  enough  of  these  recriminations,  and  do  not  mean 
to  allow  myself  to  be  terrorized  over  by  you.  Threaten- 
ing is  a  game  that  two  can  play  at,  and  the  odds  are 
scarcely  on  your  side. " 

He  took  a  step  towards  the  door;  then  remembered 
that  it  was  locked. 

"  It  is  a  recoiling  threat  on  your  part. " 

Herriard  heard  the  significant  rejoinder,  but  paid 
no  heed  to  it.  He  was  sick  of  the  scene,  and  the  evil 


THE  STRUGGLE  235 

presence  in  his  room  was  repugnant  to  him.  "Give 
me  the  key,"  he  demanded,  turning. 

Gastineau's  right  hand  was  in  his  coat  pocket.  As 
he  took  a  swift  step  forward,  he  withdrew  it,  his  eyes 
fixed  with  a  peculiar  mesmeric  gaze  upon  Herriard 's. 
Something  in  the  look  warned  Herriard;  it  was  not 
that  of  one  who  is  simply  giving  up  a  key  on  demand. 
But  the  one  man's  eyes  seemed  to  hold  the  other's; 
only,  they  drove  him,  instinctively,  to  take  a  step  back- 
wards. It  was  well.  For  as  Herriard  put  out  his  hand, 
Gastineau  struck  at  him,  at  his  heart,  and  the  back- 
ward movement  caused  the  blow  to  fall  short  by  per- 
haps half  an  inch.  Next  instant  Herriard  with  a  cry 
of  indignation  seized  the  striking  arm  and  closed  with 
him. 

"Ah,  murderer!  " 

Herriard  felt  a  sharp  prick  at  his  breast  and  strug- 
gled desperately  to  keep  the  deadly  hand  away.  He 
could  not  have  believed  that  Gastineau  was  so  strong: 
his  arms,  wrists,  fingers  were  like  joints  of  steel;  while 
the  spirit  that  governed  their  movement,  their  efforts, 
with  deadly  purpose,  seemed  ten  times  stronger  than 
his  own  incentive  to  self-preservation. 

It  was  that  fierce  vigour  of  mind  that  made  the 
struggle  equal;  the  body  that  for  years  had  lain  half 
dead  a  match  now  for  a  younger  man  who  had  never 
known  ill-health.  And  to  Herriard  the  wrestle  was 
complicated  by  reason  of  the  sharp  weapon  that  each 
man  was  trying  to  force  in  an  opposite  direction;  all 
Gastineau's  vicious  energy  was  concentrated  towards 
getting  his  right  hand  free  to  strike.  It  was  a  strange 
encounter,  carried  on,  fierce  as  it  was,  almost  without 
noise:  indeed  there  was  none,  save  the  heavy  breathing 


236  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

of  the  two  adversaries.  By  sheer  weight  Gastineau  had 
been  forced  to  the  wall,  against  which  he  was  held 
struggling  quietly  with  a  planned  reason  for  every 
movement  he  made.  With  him  was  no  waste  of  en- 
ergy; only  against  Herriard's  greater  strength  he  could 
not  work  his  will.  But  on  Herriard's  part  the  struggle, 
fierce  in  its  terrible  intensity,  was  but  a  mechanical 
effort  at  self-defence.  What  was  to  be  the  end  of  it? 
What  did  it,  must  it,  portend?  If,  that  was,  he  got  the 
better  of  his  enemy;  if  it  went  the  other  way,  the  end 
was  certain  enough.  In  a  few  minutes  he  would  be  a 
dead  man,  and  no  soul  on  earth  the  wiser  as  to  whence 
his  death-blow  had  come.  There  were  but  the  muscles 
of  his  arm  between  him  and  extinction.  The  thought 
nerved  him;  he  tightened  his  grip  on  Gastineau,  cast- 
ing about  for  an  effectual  means  of  wresting  from  him 
the  weapon,  a  long,  tapering  stilletto,  used  for  piercing 
documents,  which  had  lain  on  the  writing  table.  It 
seemed  as  though,  if  he  tried,  he  could  turn  it  and  drive 
it  into  the  evil  heart,  to  the  world's  advantage.  If  it 

came  to  that 

Suddenly  Gastineau  seemed  to  collapse,  the  tension 
of  his  muscles  relaxed,  his  legs  gave  way,  Herriard  was 
supporting  rather  than  restraining  him  now.  There 
was  a  strange,  fixed,  unfathomable  expression  in  Gas- 
tineau's  eyes  as  he  hung  forwards,  helplessly,  it  seemed : 
only  held  up  by  Herriard's  grip.  He  could  have  sent 
him  out  of  the  world  then;  and  just  because  he  realized 
how  easy  it  would  be,  he  put  away  the  intention.  In- 
deed, as  Gastineau's  limp  weight  lurched  forward  against 
him,  his  head  hanging  down,  Herriard  asked  himself 
whether  nature  were  not  about  to  take  a  desirable,  if 
unpleasant,  task,  out  of  human  hands. 


THE  STRUGGLE  237 

So  he  let  Gastineau  slip  to  the  floor,  and,  as  he  lay, 
tried  once  more  to  take  the  deadly  point  from  him. 
But  the  grasp  of  the  fingers  round  it  was  as  rigid  as 
that  of  a  dead  hand.  Still  holding  the  wrist,  Herriard 
paused  in  perplexity.  What  was  he  to  do?  how  was 
this  affair  to  end? 

"Gastineau,"  he  exclaimed,  "let  go;  give  up  this 
thing. " 

The  words  were  futile;  the  white  face  on  the  floor 
gave  no  sign  that  they  were  heard;  the  fist  remained 
clenched  tightly  as  ever  round  the  weapon's  handle. 
Gastineau  was  breathing  heavily,  peculiarly,  at  consid- 
erable intervals,  sighing  rather  than  simply  breathing: 
his  eyes,  half  closed,  seemed  to  see  nothing.  In  a  tense, 
horrible  silence,  broken  only  by  an  occasional  deep 
breath  from  Gastineau,  the  moments  passed  without 
bringing  relief  to  Herriard 's  situation,  or  suggesting  an 
end  to  the  affair,  save  one.  Was  the  man  dying?  It 
seemed  almost  like  it.  His  breathing,  to  Herriard 's  un- 
trained ear,  seemed  stertorous;  and  now  and  again 
there  came  a  catch  and  a  rattle  in  the  throat.  The 
man  was  dying.  His  patched-up  strength  had  evidently 
given  way  under  the  strain:  the  mind  had  urged  on  the 
body  beyond  its  half -recovered  powers,  and  the  result 
was  the  collapse  before  him. 

"Gastineau!  " 

For  a  moment  Herriard  forgot  his  enemy's  diabolical 
nature  in  the  feeling  of  almost  awe-struck  sorrow  for 
the  man  who  had  led  him  to  success.  That  the  end  of 
it  all  should  have  come  thus  swiftly  and  awfully  filled 
him  with  a  vague  terror. 

"Gastineau!  " 

The  body  before  him  quivered;  he  thought  the  thin 


238  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

lips,  almost  set,  murmured  something.  Changing  his 
position,  he  bent  over,  and  set  himself  to  raise  the  fallen 
head.  As  he  did  so,  a  rigor  seemed  to  seize  and  shake 
Gastineau;  he  groaned  feebly  and  caught  his  breath:  it 
seemed  as  though  the  end  was  near.  Near?  Herriard, 
relaxing  something  of  his  grasp,  bent  down  to  hear  what 
the  lips  seemed  to  murmur.  Then  he  found  an  arm 
holding  his  neck  like  in  a  vice,  his  head  was  pulled  down, 
the  wrist  which  he  gripped  was  jerked  free,  and,  with  a 
convulsive,  concentrated  muscular  effort,  Gastineau 
raised  himself  and  held  him  down.  The  relative  posi- 
tions of  the  two  men  had  in  a  moment  become  reversed, 
and  Herriard  was  looking  up  into  the  face  set  over  him 
full  of  the  triumph  of  a  diabolical  cunning. 

"My  good  Herriard,"  said  the  scoffing  voice  through 
the  curl  of  those  hateful  lips,  "you  are  hopelessly  stupid. 
What  did  you  think?  That  you  could  snuff  out  Paul 
Gastineau  by  holding  him  against  the  wall?  "  He 
laughed.  Herriard  saw  the  glint  of  the  steel  raised  to 
strike.  He  had  no  breath  to  struggle;  the  tense,  cruel 
fingers  gripped  his  throat  mercilessly,  the  weight  of  Gas- 
tineau's  body  was  on  his  chest. 

"Gastineau,  for  God's  sake —  "  he  gasped,  and  all 
the  reply  was  a  laugh. 

"So  you  know  I  did  for  Martindale,  "  he  heard  the 
words  through  the  buzzing  of  the  compressed  blood 
in  his  ears.  "Dangerous  knowledge.  Too  dangerous 
to  live. " 

Gastineau  moved  slightly  backward  to  strike.  Her- 
riard gave  a  stifled  cry  in  the  agony  of  death.  Then 
through  the  rooms  there  sounded  the  startling  noise  of 
a  sharp  knocking  at  the  outer  door. 

With  every  sense  strung  to  its  acutest  point,  Her- 


THE  STRUGGLE  239 

riard  heard  it  and  made  a  desperate  effort  to  call  out; 
but  the  hand  on  his  throat  tightened,  and  the  cry  was 
abortive.  Then,  for  a  few  seconds,  dead  silence  fol- 
lowed. Gastineau  was  thinking,  planning  with  that 
swift  brain  of  his;  determining  which  course  to  take 
of  the  urgent  choice  before  him.  Life  and  death  were 
in  the  -wavering  balance,  and  Herriard  lay  watching 
the  cruel  face  as  the  indicator  of  which  side  the  scale 
of  his  existence  dropped.  Then  came  another  knock- 
ing, and  Herriard  with  a  tremendous  effort  partially 
freed  himself  and  sent  forth  a  great  half-strangled  cry. 
Next  instant  he  was  released,  for  Gastineau  had  sprung 
to  his  feet,  and  stood  for  the  moment  irresolute.  Her- 
riard rose  now,  and  shouted;  what  he  knew  not.  But 
the  shout  seemed  to  determine  Gastineau.  He  took 
the  key  from  his  pocket,  unlocked  the  door  and  went 
out.  Herriard,  steadying  himself,  followed  warily  into 
the  lobby.  Gastineau  was  not  to  be  seen.  The  outer 
door  stood  ajar.  It  opened  wider  now  to  admit  a  man's 
form.  Herriard  sprang  forward  with  a  cry,  and,  to 
his  inexpressible  relief,  found  himself  confronted  by 
Count  Prosper  von  Rohnburg. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE   WAYS   OF   MAYFAIR 

"  r  I THEY  say,"  announced  Dormer  Greetland,  with 
A    the  seriousness  befitting  an  important  pronounce- 
ment, "that  Countess  Alexia  is  going  to  marry  Her- 
riard." 

"One  is  scarcely  surprised  to  hear  it,"  Lady  Rother- 
field  commented  in  a  non-committal  tone.  Having 
once  got  down  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  fence,  she  had 
climbed  up  again  to  her  perch,  and  was  disposed  to  sit 
there  and  argue  that  her  rash  descent  had  not  been 
altogether  unwise.  "But  is  it  true?  " 

"Quite  proper,"  laughed  the  shrill  voice  of  Baron  de 
Daun,  "that  Perseus  should  marry  Andromeda.  It  is 
true?  Of  course  it  is  the  natural  thing  for  people  to 
say." 

"I  have  it  on  the  best  authority,"  was  the  Mayfair 
newsman's  somewhat  vague  reply.  "Naturally  it  was 
the  first  thing  we  should  be  told.  But  one  would  hardly 
accept  the  banal  chatter  of  irresponsible  outsiders.  No, 
dear  lady,  you  will  find  it  authentic  now.  I  might  have 
told  you  the  news  a  fortnight  ago,  but  then  it  was 
merely  in  the  air.  To-day—  He  gave  a  shrug  as 

though  they  would  discredit  his  imprimatur  at  their  peril. 

"Well,  I  should  say  there  is  something  in  it,"  Sir 
Perrott  Aspall  declared.  ''I  was  talking  to  Dick  Jos- 
selyn  at  the  Club  just  now,  and  he  tells  me  that  Her- 
riard  is  returning  all  his  briefs." 

240 


THE  WAYS  OF  MAYFAIR  241 

"Really?  "  exclaimed  Lady  Rotherfield,  trying  to 
gauge  the  significance  of  the  last  piece  of  news. 

"That  looks  as  though  something  were  in  the  wind," 
De  Daun  suggested. 

"Yes,"  put  in  Greetland.  "Herriard  wouldn't  ac- 
cept a  brief  for  poor  Lady  Ranower.  She  had  set  her 
heart  upon  retaining  him  for  her  appeal."  This  was 
pure  invention;  but  its  author  could  not  have  it  sup- 
posed that  Sir  Perrott's  announcement  was  news  to  him. 

"I  suppose  it  will  be  a  quiet  affair?  "  Lady  Rother- 
field was  alluding  to  Alexia's  marriage,  not  to  Lady 
Ranower 's  appeal. 

"I  should  hope  so,"  Greetland  replied  charitably. 
"Between  ourselves,  one  can  scarcely  call  the  Countess 
quite  re-established. " 

"Ah,  well,"  observed  Lady  Rotherfield,  still  hedging, 
"  a  very  suitable  match.  Mr.  Herriard  is  quite  a  some- 
body. " 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  De  Daun,  who  had  taken  recent  op- 
portunities of  cultivating  Herriard  on  the  strength  of 
his  coming  position  in  the  world.  "But  why  should  he 
return  his  briefs,  eh?  Is  that  the  fashion  here  when  one 
is  to  be  married?  " 

"Hardly,"  laughed  Sir  Perrott.  "Unless  one  is  in  a 
great  hurry." 

"Ah,  that  is  it,  you  may  depend,"  said  Greetland. 
"It  is  coming  off  at  once.  By  to-night  I  shall  know 
all  about  it.  A  long  honeymoon  to  wear  out  an  attenu- 
ating scandal." 

"I  wish,"  said  Lady  Rotherfield  presently  to  Greet- 
land in  a  confidential  corner,  "one  knew  exactly  what 
to  do  about  poor  Countess  Alexia.  It  is  so  very  awk- 
ward. What  line  are  people  taking?  Do  advise  me." 
16 


242  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"  Lady  Kilvinton  calls, "  the  smart  authority  declared, 
somewhat  with  the  air  of  a  dogmatic  stockbroker  ad- 
vising a  client  as  to  her  investments.  "And  yesterday 
when  I  was  in  Green  Street  I  saw  two  carriages  outside 
the  house.  I  was  on  the  other  side,  but  I  think — I  'm 
pretty  sure — the  Ramplingham  crest  was  on  one  of 
them." 

"H'm!  "  Lady  Rotherfield  pursed  her  lips  medita- 
tively. "You  don't  go  there  yourself?  "  she  asked 
shrewdly. 

He  shrugged.  "  I  have  n't  had  a  moment  to  go  any- 
where, except  where  I  have  been  booked;  and  then, 
as  it  is,  have  been  able  to  keep  only  half  my  engage- 
ments,"  he  replied,  with  weary  plausibility.  "You 
know,  dear  lady,  what  a  rush  there  always  is  towards 
the  end  of  the  season.  Oh,  no;  I  don't  mean  to  drop 
the  von  Rohnburgs.  Count  Prosper  is  a  very  decent 
fellow;  and  I  always  liked  Lady  Alexia.  She  is  so  in- 
teresting, and  her  breeding  is  perfect,  which  is  more  than 
one  can  say  for  all  foreigners.  That  appalling  Lady 
Beeman,  for  instance,  nee  Goldknecht,  who,  I  should 
say,  came  out  of  the  Judengasse  originally.  No;  when 
one  comes  back  from  Homburg  and  the  country-house 
round,  which,  by  the  way,  promises  to  be  severely  trying 
this  autumn,  I  shall  certainly  give  our  friends  in  Green 
Street  a  call.  They  will  hardly  expect  a  busy  man  to 
do  more  this  side  of  November  than  leave  a  card. " 

"Then  you  think,"  Lady  Rotherfield  said,  with  a 
certain  clearing  of  doubt,  "that  one  may  venture  to 
take  them  up  again?  " 

"I  see  no  risk  now,  dear  lady,  or  I  would  not  let 
you  do  it,"  the  cotillon-expert  assured  her,  this  time 
with  the  air  of  a  doctor  pronouncing  a  patient  at  last 


THE  WAYS  OF  MAYFAIR  243 

free  from  infection.  "You  see,  Herriard  is  bound  to 
come  on;  he  is  quite  pointed  out  and  listened  to  in  the 
House;  and  the  Countess  is  bound  to  have  a  large  dot. 
Yes;  they  will  have  to  be  reckoned  with  when  they 
have  settled  down,  and  the  nine  days'  wonder  is  con- 
veniently forgotten.  With  her  style  and  nous  theirs  is 
quite  likely  to  be  one  of  the  smart  houses  to  go  to,  and 
if  he  got  to  the  front  Bench  her  receptions  might  at- 
tain the  dignity  of  a  salon. " 

Lady  Rotherfield  was  beginning  to  wonder  whether 
she  had  not  sat  too  long  on  the  fence.  "You  really 
think  that?  "  she  murmured  uncomfortably.  Then 
went  on  almost  beseechingly,  "Mr.  Greetland,  you  know 
one  hates  to  do  the  wrong  thing.  Do  you  think  it 
would  look  odd  if  one  sent  these  dear  people  a  card 
for  next  Tuesday?  You  know  I  am  having  some  music; 
Marzoni  has  promised  to  sing,  and  I  am  trying  to  get 
Tarbosch;  only  these  tiresome  musical  people  give  them- 
selves such  provoking  airs.  Is  it  too  late?  " 

Greetland  appeared  to  reflect.  "H'm!  How  long 
have  the  cards  been  out?  " 

"Nearly  a  month,"  the  lady  answered,  with  a  little 
rueful  grimace.  "One  has  to  make  refusals  as  difficult 
as  possible  in  these  days  of  competition. " 

"Just  so,"  Greetland  assented.  "Poor  Mrs.  Pelham 
Steinthal  never  sends  her  cards  out  less  than  six  weeks 
ahead. " 

"  Naturally.  A  deplorable  woman  like  that.  I  'm 
afraid  even  that  precaution  does  not  prevent  the  re- 
fusals. " 

"  No.  But  if  she  gets  one  acceptance  in  eight  she  con- 
siders she  has  done  extremely  well.  And  the  poor  woman 
is  really  improving.  I  have  edited  her  list  for  her. " 


244  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"A  pleasant  task!     But  you  are  always  so  sweet." 

"It  was  a  labour  of  Hercules;  especially  as  one  had 
never  heard  of  quite  two-thirds  of  the  people;  and  when 
I  enquired  who  in  the  world  they  were,  the  tiresome 
woman  would  hold  a  brief  for  the  distressing  unknowns." 

"She  might  have  concluded,"  observed  Lady  Roth- 
erfield  graciously,  "that  any  one  unknown  to  Mr.  Dor- 
mer Greetland  was  not  worth  knowing. " 

The  arbiter  of  social  pretension  accepted  the  com- 
pliment as  no  more  than  his  due.  "Well,  I  had  at 
last  to  act  on  that  assumption,"  he  said  acquiescently. 
"Arguing  the  value  of  various  unknown  quantities  be- 
came fatiguing.  It  took  me  quite  half-an-hour's  hard 
lecturing  to  make  the  absurd  woman  understand  that 
a  merely  rich  hostess,  to  be  a  success,  must  never  re- 
ceive any  but  her  social  superiors.  Equals  and  infe- 
riors in  such  a  case  give  away  the  show  at  once." 

"Ah,  yes,"  Lady  Rotherfield  agreed,  with  a  half  sigh; 
"people  of  that  sort  cannot  be  too  careful.  Unfortu- 
nately they  will  not  realize  the  fact  that  it  is  as  much 
as  we  can  do  to  tolerate  them  singly;  in  battalions  they 
are  utterly  overpowering.  Now,  Mr.  Greetland,  about 
the  poor  Countess  Alexia.  Do  you  think  one  might 
venture?  " 

With  a  slightly  obvious  effort  Greetland  brought  his 
mind  back  to  the  subject  from  which  it  had  strayed. 
"Well,"  he  said  judicially,  "I  think  you  might.  You 
must  chance  their  not  having  heard  of  your  reception, 
with  other  things  to  occupy  their  minds.  You  might 
scribble  an  excuse  for  short  notice;  say  you  have  had 
unheard-of  difficulties  with  your  fiddler." 

"Oh,  thank  you  so  much,  dear  Mr.  Greetland;  it  is 
truly  sweet  of  you.  I  '11  do  that  at  once.  Yes;  these 


THE  WAYS  OF  MAYFAIR  245 

wretched  fiddlers  and  their  exasperating  ways  have 
their  uses  sometimes.  I  hope  you  are  coming,  Mr. 
Greetland?  " 

A  cloud  crossed  the  face  which  was  to  so  many  host- 
esses the  social  sun.  "I  am  engaged  a  hundred  deep 
for  Tuesday,"  he  smiled  protestingly,  "but  I  '11  do  my 
best.  You  might  let  me  know,  dear  lady,  if  Tarbosch 
is  really  coming  to  play  for  you.  I  just  missed  him 
at  Lady  Llanthony's  the  other  night,  and  one  must  be 
able  to  say  one  has  heard  him." 

"I  '11  make  the  wretch  decide,  and  then  send  you  a 
wire,"  she  promised. 

Greetland  rose.  He  had  given  Lady  Rotherfield  more 
of  the  light  of  his  complacent  countenance  than  was 
quite  her  due,  and  should  be  moving  round  in  his  orbit 
to  illuminate  and  attract  the  rest  of  the  world.  A  man 
passed  him  with  a  nod  and  a  casual  remark.  Greetland 
turned  back  to  Lady  Rotherfield. 

"Talking  of  our  friends  in  Green  Street,"  he  said, 
"  that  man  has  been  having  an  uncomfortable  time  over 
the  Vaux  House  affair. " 

"He?  Who?  "  the  lady  asked,  putting  up  her 
glasses. 

Greetland  looked  up  at  her  with  a  suspicion  of  pitying 
contempt.  Really  she  was,  considering  her  position, 
very  stupid  and  ill-informed.  He  had  indeed  been  wast- 
ing his  time  with  her,  and  made  a  mental  note  that  he 
would  try  and  hear  Tarbosch  somewhere  else  than  under 
her  irritating  auspices. 

"Don't  you  know?  "  he  asked,  almost  tartly.  "Au- 
brey Playford.  It  is  an  open  secret  that  he  denounced 
the  Countess  Alexia  to  the  Daily  Comet.  Had  recog- 
nized the  dagger  hair-pin  as  being  hers,  and  so  got  them 


246  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

into  all  this  trouble.  They  say  he  and  Brailsford  nearly 
came  to  blows  in  the  Park  last  Sunday  over  the  affair. 
Of  course  Brailsford  is  trying  to  whitewash  himself  with 
the  mob,  and  particularly  to  get  back  into  certain  houses 
where  he  is  no  longer  asked.  They  say  old  Lord  Clo- 
velly  threatened  to  kick  him  into  Piccadilly  if  he  showed 
his  face  at  Bude  House  again.  So  he  thought  the  best 
move  would  be  to  horsewhip  Playford,  just  to  show  his 
bona  fides." 

"How  amusing!  "  Lady  Rotherfield  made  a  mental 
tick  against  that  enterprising  editor's  name.  "But, 
tell  me,  why  did  Mr.  Playford  accuse  the  poor  Countess 
Alexia?  " 

Greetland  smiled  significantly.  "Surely  you  can 
guess  the  reason,  dear  lady,"  he  replied,  with  a  trace 
of  impatience.  "No  need  to  chercher  la  femme  when 
she  is  already  there. " 

"Ah,  just  so.     A  case  of  pique.     But  what  bad  form." 

"So  every  one  thinks." 

"I  believe  I  have  asked  him  for  Tuesday.  How 
awkward!  Still,  he  is  here.  I  always  thought  Lady 
Polloxfen  so  particular. " 

Greetland  gave  a  smile  of  superior  insight.  "So  she 
is,  dear  lady;  but  you  must  remember  that  Aubrey 
Playford  is  heir  presumptive  to  his  cousin's  title,  and 
the  Stainford  property  is  practically  bound  to  go  with 
it." 

"To  be  sure!  "  Lady  Rotherfield's  brow  cleared  once 
more.  And  presently  when,  by  accident  or  design,  she 
encountered  that  eligible  sneak,  she  begged  him  with 
her  sweetest  smile  not  to  forget  he  was  engaged  to  her 
for  Tuesday  when  that  delightful  Tarbosch  was  posi- 
tively going  to  play. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

HERRIARD'S  CONFESSION 

THE  gossips  for  once  were  right  about  Herriard  and 
Countess  Alexia.  They  were  going  to  be  married 
almost  immediately,  and  with  a  view  to  that  event 
Herriard  was  preparing  to  interrupt  his  work  at  the 
Bar.  Whither  his  position  was  drifting  him  he  knew 
not :  the  developments  directed  by  the  inscrutable  brain 
of  a  Gastineau  were  not  to  be  forecasted.  But,  at  least, 
if  his  career  was  checked,  he  would  now  be  pecuniarily 
independent  of  briefs. 

When,  on  the  night  of  his  terrible  danger,  he  found 
with  a  great  thrill  of  relief  that  his  opportune  visitor 
was  Count  Prosper,  he  invited  him,  in  a  half-dazed 
fashion,  into  his  room,  making  what  excuse  of  illness 
he  could  to  account  for  his  perturbed  and  disordered 
appearance.  His  explanations  were  suspiciously  inco- 
herent, for  his  mind  was  preoccupied  with  the  problem 
as  to  what  prompt  action,  if  any,  he  ought  to  take 
with  regard  to  Gastineau.  But  his  visitor  was  an  easy- 
going fellow;  not  given,  at  any  rate  outside  his  pro- 
fession, to  probing  for  recondite  motives;  and  although 
he  regarded  Herriard  fs  confusion  and  disarray  with  a 
certain  amount  of  wondering  curiosity,  he  yet  accepted 
the  sight  as  a  mere  abnormality  with  which  he  did  not 
happen  to  be  familiar. 

"I  wondered  what  was  the  matter,"  he  laughed, 
247 


248  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"when  I  found  you  had  opened  the  door  and  then 
disappeared. " 

So  Gastineau  had  not  passed  out.  He  was  still  in 
the  chambers.  Herriard  could  not,  for  his  life,  deter- 
mine what  he  had  best  do. 

"I  had  to  go  into  the  City  to  our  Consulate,"  Count 
Prosper  proceeded  chattily.  "  I  was  kept  there  late  over 
some  troublesome  business,  and  one  of  the  men  took 
me  to  dine  at  some  famous  old  eating-house.  Strolling 
homewards,  I  passed  the  Temple  and  thought  to  see 
if  you  were  to  be  still  found  in  your  den. " 

"  I  am  glad  you  did, "  was  Herriard 's  fervent  response. 

"Are  you  hard  at  work?  "  the  Count  went  on.  "No. 
You  cannot  work  with  a  bad  headache.  Let  us  take 
a  hansom  home  and  blow  it  away.  Alexia  is  alone,  and 
dull  enough,  I  expect.  Come!  " 

He  rose  with  a  smile,  and  laid  his  hand  affectionately 
on  the  other's  shoulder. 

"Yes,"  answered  Herriard,  feeling  that,  though  un- 
seasonable, it  was  the  only  thing  possible.  "I  shall  be 
glad,  if  you  will  wait  till  I  make  myself  tidy." 

He  went  out  warily  into  the  lobby.  The  outer  door 
was  ajar.  He  tried  to  recollect.  "Prosper,"  he  said, 
returning  to  the  room,  "do  you  remember  whether  I 
shut  the  outside  door  when  you  came  in?  ' 

"No,  my  dear  fellow,"  he  laughed.  "I  performed 
that  office  myself." 

"You  are  sure?  " 

"Quite  positive." 

So  Gastineau  was  gone.  The  open  door  showed  that. 
Yet  it  was  with  an  apprehensive  watchfulness  that  Her- 
riard entered  the  little  dressing-room  where  his  enemy 
must  have  waited.  He  was  not  there  now.  He  had 


HERRIARD'S  CONFESSION  249 

disappeared;  gone  out  upon  the  world  an  impersonal 
force  for  evil,  a  living  man  with,  for  the  time,  no  legal 
existence. 

The  relief  from  the  close,  baleful  atmosphere  of  the 
chambers  and  the  drive  through  the  comparatively 
fresh  air  somewhat  revived  Herriard,  and  by  the  time 
they  reached  Green  Street  he  had  resolved  upon  the 
course  he  would  take.  Alexia  was  alone;  how  glad  she 
was  to  see  him  the  love-light  in  her  eyes  told  him,  and 
his  heart  sank,  he  felt  bitterly  resentful  against  fate  at 
the  thought  of  the  evil  of  which  he  was  the  messenger. 
Count  Prosper  was  not  long  in  tactfully  remembering 
some  work  he  had  to  finish,  and  left  the  lovers 
together. 

"Geoffrey,"  Alexia  said,  looking  into  the  face  just 
raised  from  a  kiss,  "you  are  not  yourself  to-night,  you 
are  troubled:  tell  me." 

He  took  a  few  restless  steps.  "I  am  worried,"  he 
answered,  "and  more,  I  have  news  which  must  trouble 
you. " 

She  rose  to  her  feet  and  stood  looking  at  him,  her 
eyes  full  of  a  vague  apprehension,  yet  scarcely  fear. 
"Geoffrey,"  she  said  in  a  low,  steady  voice,  "tell  me: 
tell  me  at  once." 

He  hestitated  a  moment  as  though  calculating  the 
danger  of  the  shock.  Then  he  spoke. 

"Paul  Gastineau ' 

"Gastineau?  "  She  almost  gasped,  and  her  face  went 
white. 

"Is  alive." 

"Ah!  "  Her  lips  closed  tightly.  The  effort  was  to 
steady  herself  and  realize  what  the  news  portended. 
With  characteristic  delicacy  Herriard  waited  in  silence. 


250  THE  MASTER  SPIRIT 

In  that  moment  he  would  not  emphasize,  he  dared  not 
soften,  the  import  of  the  news. 

"You  have  seen  him?  "  she  asked  at  length. 

He  nodded.  Then  came  near,  took  her  in  his  arms 
and  kissed  her.  "My  darling!  Mine!  "  he  murmured. 

"Geoffrey,  tell  me,"  she  said. 

"I  hardly  dare  tell  you,"  he  replied,  as  the  possible 
consequence  of  his  confession  sent  a  shiver  of  fear 
through  him. 

"Ah,  he  is  the  same  terribly  hateful,  determined  man 
as  ever."  She  gave  a  slight  shudder.  "So  the  man 
who  told  Prosper  he  had  seen  him  was  right  after  all. 
But  you,  Geoffrey;  how  did  you  encounter  him?  You 
said  you  did  not  know  him  in  the  old  days,  before  his 
supposed  death.  Tell  me  quickly.  I  cannot  under- 
stand what  has  happened." 

He  took  her  hand  as  they  sat  together.  "I  don't 
know  how  I  can  tell  you,"  he  said,  in  a  troubled  voice. 
"For  my  story  involves  a  confession;  a  hateful  confes- 
sion which  may  rob  me  of  the  thing  I  hold  dearest  in 
the  world.  Yet  I  must  tell  you  everything,  everything, 
and  trust  to  your  nobleness,  to  your  love  to  judge  me 
fairly.  Promise  me  you  will  not  condemn  me  till  you 
have  heard  the  whole  history.  I  swear  to  you  I  will 
keep  back  nothing,  extenuate  nothing:  you  shall  know 
the  story  as  I  know  it. " 

The  hand  which  lay  in  his  gave  a  little  pressure  of 
confidence,  and  with  that  he  released  it.  At  least  he 
would  spare  her — and  himself — the  pain  of  taking  it 
away.  Then  he  told  her  everything  of  his  life  since 
his  first  meeting  with  Gastineau:  told  his  story  shortly, 
succinctly,  yet,  as  he  had  promised,  omitting  nothing 
of  importance,  nothing  that  an  enemy  or  his  own  con- 


HERPJARD'S  CONFESSION  251 

science  would  have  bade  him  tell.  Alexia  listened  with 
half-averted  face.  Now  and  again  she  broke  in  with 
an  exclamation  of  wonder,  for  the  tale  was  surely  one 
of  the  strangest  that  ever  woman  heard  from  her  lover's 
lips;  once  or  twice  she  asked  a  question  for  an  explan- 
ation of  Gastineau's  almost  incredible  procedure;  that 
was  all.  She  heard  him  without  sign  of  impatience  to 
the  end,  and  he  could  not  tell,  dared  not  seek  to  antici- 
pate his  story's  effect  upon  her.  Yet  he  feared.  The 
account  of  the  accident,  their  meeting,  and  the  suppos- 
ititious death  of  Gastineau  was  plain,  though  dramatic 
enough;  the  suggestion  of  the  singular  partnership  did 
not  seem  greatly  to  exceed  the  relations  of  coach  and 
pupil;  but,  viewed  in  the  light  of  its  effects,  of  the  moral 
situation  to  which  it  had  driven  Herriard,  of  the  vin- 
dictive use  to  which  Gastineau  had  constantly  put  his 
pupil,  of  the  fraud  and  falsehood  that  lay  behind  Her- 
riard's  career,  none  the  less  dishonest  in  that  their  only 
bad  effect  was  the  injury  to  himself,  all  this  when  re- 
lated plainly  seemed  horribly  condemnatory.  Still,  he 
stuck  unflinchingly  to  his  task,  feeling  that  nothing  but 
truth  must  exist  between  him  and  his  love;  and,  be- 
sides, this  was  the  only,  yet  the  least,  atonement  he 
could  make. 

It  was  only  when  he  had  come  to  an  end  of  his  un- 
varnished story  that  he  let  his  tone  change  to  pleading. 

"If  you  knew,  my  love,"  he  said,  passionately  re- 
morseful, "how  I  have  hated  myself  for  these  years 
of  falsehood,  how  I  fought  against  the  temptation  to 
declare  my  love,  knowing  I  was  unworthy  of  yours, 
till  at  last  it  was  too  strong  to  resist,  you  would  pity 
me.  And  you  must  know  that  with  my  love  came  the 
determination  to  end  the  situation  regardless  of  conse- 


252  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

quences,  to  strip  off  the  bonds  of  deception  that  bound 
me.  The  release  has  come,  thank  God,  and  I  am  a 
free  man,  and  you  are,  if  it  must  be,  a  free  woman, 
whose  path  need  never, run  with  mine  again." 

He  paused,  hanging  on  her  answer.  To  his  unspeak- 
able joy  her  hand  was  laid  on  his,  and,  as  he  turned, 
he  read  nothing  but  love  in  her  eyes. 

"Alexia!  "  he  cried,  in  the  delicious  release  from  a 
great  fear;  and  next  moment  was  on  his  knees  by  her 
side  kissing  her.  "And  you  can  still  love  me?  "  he 
murmured. 

"Why  not?  "  she  replied.  "What  bar  is  it  between 
us  that  you  have  been  led  into  and  caught  in  a  false 
position  by  the  most  plausible,  unprincipled  brain  in 
the  world?  " 

"But  the  living  lie  that  I  have  been,"  he  urged,  re- 
solved that  nothing  should  be  glossed  over,  and  feeling 
a  prompt  forgiveness  was  more  than  he  deserved. 

She  gave  a  smile  of  sweet  protest.  "That  is  hardly 
my  judgment  of  you.  It  does  not  follow  because  Geof- 
frey Herriard  is,  happily,  not  the  intellectual  equal  of 
Paul  Gastineau  he  is  not  a  clever  man." 

"At  least,"  he  said,  allowing  himself  one  favour- 
able word,  "my  conduct  of  your  case  was  all  my 
own. " 

"I  gathered  that,"  she  replied,  "from  your  story, 
and  was  glad  to  think  it. " 

"If,"  he  continued,  with  a  touch  of  bitterness,  "it 
had  been  he  who,  through  my  mouth,  had  won  the  day 
for  you,  I  don't  think  I  could  ever  have  brought  myself 
to  ask  you  to  be  my  wife.  But  at  least  I  was  honest 
there. " 

"And  clever,  and  brave,  and  chivalrous.     And  you 


HERRIARD'S  CONFESSION  253 

thought,  Geoffrey,  that  the  woman  who  professed  to 
love  you  would  have  repaid  all  that  by  rejecting  you 
because  she  found  you  were  enmeshed  in  the  toils  of  our 
common  enemy?  You  might  have  known  me  better, 
dear. " 

Presently  Herriard  said,  "I  have  at  least  one  great 
piece  of  good  news  for  you.  The  man  who  killed  Mar- 
tindale  has  been  discovered. " 

"Geoffrey!  "  Alexia's  face  flushed  with  the  joy  of 
that  relief.  "Tell  me;  who " 

"Who  but  the  one  man  in  our  thoughts,  the  man 
whose  evil  personality  hangs  like  a  thunder-cloud  over 
our  lives. " 

"Not  Gastineau?  " 

"Yes;  Paul  Gastineau."  Then  he  told  her  of  Quick- 
John's  discovery,  and  of  Gastineau's  visit  and  attack; 
softening,  however,  the  details  of  that  terrible  struggle, 
in  order  to  spare  her  anxiety  and  fear  for  the  future. 
As  it  was,  she  showed  signs  of  a  distress  and  a  terror 
too  strong  to  be  kept  under. 

"But  now,"  she  said,  brightening  a  little,  "with  this 
man's  discovery,  Gastineau's  power  for  evil  is  surely  at 
an  end?  You  have  only  to  inform  the  authorities  that 
he  is  alive,  and  they  will  arrest  him." 

Herriard  shook  his  head.  "I  doubt  if  they  would 
have  a  case.  My  experience  of  the  law,  my  working 
with  Gastineau,  have  taught  me  that  moral  proof  posi- 
tive may  fall  very  far  short  of  the  legal  evidence  neces- 
sary for  a  successful  prosecution.  No:  it  is  quite  con- 
vincing to  us — to  you,  to  me  and  Quickjohn;  but,  I 
fear,  it  is  a  noose  that  a  less  clever  man  than  Paul 
Gastineau  would  have  little  difficulty  in  slipping  out  of. 
No  one  knows  what  happened  in  that  room  between  the 


254  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

time  of  your  leaving  it  and  the  discovery  of  Martindale's 
death,  except  the  one  man  whom  we  believed  to  have 
killed  him. " 

"And  he  would  kill  you,  Geoffrey,"  she  said,  in  terror 
at  the  thought. 

He  shook  his  head  reassuringly.  "I  think  not,"  he 
said.  "For  one  thing,  I  am  on  my  guard  and  can 
take  care  of  myself,  and,  besides,  I  do  not  think  he 
will  attempt  to  attack  me  again.  He  knows  I  can, 
at  least,  invoke  the  aid  of  the  law  there,  and  he  would 
scarcely  care,  in  his  present  position,  to  run  that 
risk. " 

Alexia  seemed  to  take  comfort  from  his  assumption 
of  confidence.  He  knew,  however,  all  the  same,  that 
nothing  was  more  likely  than  that  Gastineau  was  medi- 
tating another  attack,  and  that  his  own  life,  except 
as  far  as  he  could  protect  it,  might  scarcely  be  worth 
a  day's  purchase. 

Herriard,  feeling  in  little  humour  for  his  own  com- 
pany that  night,  was  glad  to  sit  and  smoke  with  Count 
Prosper  till  a  late  hour.  It  had  been  arranged  before 
Alexia  had  left  them  that  the  marriage  should  take 
place  almost  immediately  and  that  a  long  honeymoon 
should  be  spent  on  the  Count's  estate  in  Moravia.  One 
thing  intervened,  and  that  was  an  engagement  Herriard 
had  made  to  give  his  annual  address  to  his  constituents 
at  Bradbury.  This  was  an  annoying  hindrance,  but  it 
was  a  binding  obligation  on  Herriard,  and,  after  all,  it 
meant  but  a  week's  extra  delay,  which  would  give  little 
more  time  than  was  needed  for  him  to  make  a  tempo- 
rary wind-up  of  his  business,  legal  and  parliamentary. 
With  the  deadly  point  hanging  over  him,  however,  every 
moment  seemed  to  count  now  against  the  chance  of 


HARRIARD'S  CONFESSION  255 

finally  securing  his  happiness:  to  his  impatience  already, 
even,  the  inevitable  interval  seemed  a  gulf  that  he  could 
scarcely  hope  to  cross. 

However,  their  plans  were,  so  far,  settled  satisfacto- 
rily, even  happily.  Count  Prosper  gave  his  guest  a  glow- 
ing account  of  his  Austrian  home,  with  the  promise  of 
much  romantic  scenery  and  good  sport.  At  length 
Herriard  bade  him  good-night  and  strolled  off  towards 
his  rooms,  his  mind  a  vortex  of  doubt,  of  joy,  of  fear. 
What  would  be  Gastineau's  next  move?  He  had  de- 
clared in  his  masterful  fashion  that  he  would  not  be 
robbed  of  that  treasure  which  was  never  his,  Alexia. 
Still,  with  a  man  of  Gastineau's  resource  and  strength 
of  will  to  covet  was  to  possess.  In  the  days  of  their 
partnership,  now,  it  seemed,  an  age  back,  he  had  often 
declared  that  to  a  man  of  abnormal  will-power,  once 
in  deadly  earnest,  to  desire  was  to  have;  whatever  the 
object  to  be  attained  might  be,  however  high  it  might 
seem  above  his  reach.  And  that  force  was  working  now 
against  him;  what  could  his  own  devoted  love  count  in 
opposition  to  the  tremendous  energy  of  that  tenacious, 
unconquerable  will? 

Depressed  with  these  thoughts,  he  had  reached  his 
door,  when  a  man  suddenly  emerging  from  the  shadow 
of  a  portico  confronted  him.  He  was  sure,  before  he 
recognized  him,  that  it  was  the  man  in  his  thoughts, 
Paul  Gastineau.  Happily  he  had  taken  the  precaution 
to  borrow,  on  a  plausible  excuse,  Count  Prosper's  re- 
volver, resolving  to  buy  one  for  himself  next  day.  At 
the  sight  of  Gastineau  he  whipped  it  out  and  held  it 
outstretched  before  him.  Gastineau  laughed.  As  the 
light  of  a  street  lamp  fell  on  his  face  he  seemed  in  quite 
a  pleasant,  even  jocular,  mood;  no  trace  remained  of 


256  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

the  devilish  countenance  that  had  looked  down  at  Her- 
riard  a  few  hours  before  with  murder  written  plain  upon 
it.  Now  the  smile  was  not  even  cynical. 

"My  dear  Geoffrey,"  he  exclaimed,  "please  don't  be 
so  truculent.  I  hope  we  have  both  recovered  from  our 
late  madness.  I  have  been  waiting  for  you  here,  hav- 
ing forfeited  the  right  to  expect  you  to  receive  me  in- 
doors. " 

"You  could  hardly  expect  that,"  replied  Herriard, 
regarding  with  repugnant  wonder  the  almost  incredible 
assurance  of  the  callous,  insouciant  incarnation  of  ma- 
lignity who  stood  smiling  before  him.  "I  wish  to  have 
nothing  more  to  say  to  you." 

"Naturally,"  Gastineau  laughed.  "All  the  same  I 
shall  be  obliged  if  you  will  listen  to  a  word  from  me. 
A  question.  Are  you  going  to  mention  our  late  unfor- 
tunate set-to  to  your  friend  Quick  John?  I  ask  merely 
for  information."  He  spoke  quite  casually,  as  though 
careless  what  the  answer  might  be. 

"I  have  not  thought  of  it." 

"Ah!  "  Gastineau  exclaimed,  with  a  smile  of  patron- 
izing doubt.  "Or  that  I  am  in  the  land  of  the  living?  " 

"Nor  that,  as  yet." 

"Ah!  Now,  my  dear  Herriard,"  he  went  on  in  his 
easy  tone,  with  just  a  suspicion  of  restrained  mockery 
behind  it,  "I  don't  expect  you  to  take  advice  from  me 
any  longer,  and  I  am  perfectly  ready  to  meet  any  con- 
tingency; at  the  same  time  I  am  here  to  offer  you — 
shall  we  say  an  armistice? — and  to  suggest  that  to  make 
a  fuss  about  my  little  explosion  of  temper  would  not  be 
a  wise  thing  to  do. " 

"I  suppose  that  is  a  threat,"  Herriard  said  sternly; 
«if  so » 


HERRIARD'S  CONFESSION  257 

"A  threat?  "  Gastineau  raised  a  deprecating  hand. 
"My  dear  fellow!  The  idea  of  threatening  an  angry 
man  who  stands  over  you  with  a  loaded — presumably 
loaded — revolver  in  his  hand !  It  is  nothing  but  a  piece 
of  common-sense  advice,  of  which  the  most  cocksure 
of  us  occasionally  stand  in  need.  Perhaps  I  ought  to 
explain  why  mine  is  worth  considering;  the  question, 
that  is,  of  leaving  well — or  ill — alone. " 

"I  don't  want  your  advice,  Gastineau,  of  all  men's," 
Herriard  said. 

"And  yet,"  the  other  retorted,  gently  persuasive, 
"I  am,  so  far,  the  only  man  capable  of  giving  advice 
in  the  present  crisis.  You  had  better  hear  what  I  have 
to  say.  Please  be  careful  of  that  revolver.  If  you 
mean  to  shoot,  shoot;  but  I  should  hate  to  have  an 
accidental  bullet  through  me.  Now,  the  world,  my 
dear  Herriard,  is,  putting  aside  for  the  moment  our 
little  difference,  wide  enough  for  both  of  us.  It  is  not 
likely  that  I  shall  come  back  to  that  stuffy,  crowded 
square  mile  on  which  I  formerly  and  you  lately  have 
bustled  and  quibbled  and  sweated.  I  have  lost  nearly 
five  working  years  of  my  life;  I  must  make  them  up, 
and  the  great  West,  my  dear  Geoffrey,  offers  me  the 
best  chance  of  overtaking  them.  There  is  a  fortune  for 
me  in  five  years  over  there.  And  the  American  intel- 
lect attracts  me;  I  long  to  pit  myself  against  it;  I  have 
never  been  fully  extended  here;  was  brought  into  the 
world  for  worthier  competitors  than  your  slow,  stupid 
Englishmen;  I  'm  sick  of  fighting  rapier  against  blud- 
geon. So,  as  at  present  advised,  I  am  off. " 

Herriard  bowed  acceptance  of  the  statement. 

"  I  thought  you  might  like  to  know, "  Gastineau  went 
on  lightly.  "No  doubt  you  regard  me  as  a  dangerous 
17 


258  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

element  in  your  atmosphere;  an  active  enemy,  eh?  Well, 
perhaps  I  might  be  if  it  were  worth  my  while;  but  five 
minutes'  reflection  will  surely  show  you  that  it  is  n't. 
That 's  all.  Good-night. " 

To  Bernard's  relief  he  turned  to  go;  then  stopped. 
"By  the  way,  as  we  are  not  likely  to  meet  again,  you 
are  still  bent  on  marrying  the  lady?  " 

"Certainly,"  Herriard  answered  curtly. 

"H'm!  A  mistake,  my  dear  friend,  and  a  mistake 
that  will  probably  make  all  the  difference.  Blind  ob- 
stinacy has  led  many  a  better  man  than  you  or  I  over 
a  precipice.  The  clever  man  is  he  who  knows  when  to 
abandon  an  untenable  or  dangerous  position.  Well, 
may  you  be  wise  before  wisdom  has  gone  beyond  recall. 
I  shall  say  no  more.  For  the  last  time,  good-night  and 
good-bye. " 

He  nodded,  indifferent  as  to  whether  his  bidding  were 
returned,  and  so  went  off  at  a  saunter  down  the  street. 
Herriard  lingered  in  the  shadow  of  his  doorway,  watch- 
ing him  till  he  had  disappeared  into  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

A    RIOT 

ON  the  appointed  day  Herriard  journeyed  down  to 
address  his  constituents  at  Bradbury.  Since  their 
meeting  in  Mount  Street,  he  had  seen  or  heard  nothing 
of  Gastineau.  He  had,  however,  kept  on  his  guard 
through  the  busy  days  that  followed,  being  too  wary 
and  too  suspicious  of  Gastineau's  methods  to  be  lulled 
into  the  belief  that  the  active  will  was  not  still  working 
against  him.  Nevertheless,  as  the  days  went  by  with- 
out a  sign  of  Gastineau,  or  a  suggestion  of  his  aggressive 
enmity,  days  which  brought  him  nearer  and  nearer  to 
that  supreme  hour  to  which  he  scarcely  dared  look  for- 
ward, his  mind  grew  easier,  and  he  found  himself  enter- 
taining the  hope  that,  after  all,  his  enemy  might,  in  his 
speech  with  him  in  the  gate,  have  declared  his  real 
intentions,  and  that  he  would  be  troubled  by  him  no 
more.  Gastineau's  declared  project  of  betaking  him- 
self to  America  was,  at  least,  reasonable  and  likely 
enough.  He  had  in  the  old  days  over  and  over  again 
expressed  his  utter  contempt  for  his  English  compeers, 
and  told  how,  in  his  active  life,  he  had  longed  for  adver- 
saries more  worthy  of  his  skill  in  fence.  Then,  allowing 
it  to  be  quite  possible  that,  with  the  memory  of  his 
former  reputation,  with  his  talent  and  determination, 
it  would  be  a  comparatively  easy  task  for  him  to  push 
himself  again  into  the  foremost  place  which  he  had  once 
occupied,  he  would  probably  be  withheld  by  the  con- 

259 


260  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

sideration  that  it  might  be  now  as  a  man  under  the 
cloud  of  a  dark  suspicion  that  he  would  stand  forth. 
It  was  hardly  to  be  supposed  that  Quick  John's  theory 
would  be  allowed  to  slumber  in  silence.  No;  Paul  Gas- 
tineau  was  assuredly  too  astute  and  too  clear-sighted  a 
man  not  to  see  that  a  second  career  in  England  was 
closed  to  him.  His  having  lain  for  years  perdu  under 
an  assumed  name,  having  allowed  the  false  report  of  his 
death  to  pass  uncontradicted,  would  be  in  itself  a  salient 
cause  of  suspicion.  Englishmen  have  ever  fought  shy, 
in  public  life  at  least,  of  men  whose  record  was  smirched 
with  doubt.  Few  men,  if  any,  have  succeeded  in  living 
down  an  ugly  scandal  to  the  extent  of  gaining  unre- 
served acceptance  in  a  public  career.  Whatever  the 
private  lives  of  the  units  of  out-door  opinion  may  be, 
they  are  at  least  jealous  of  crooked  ways  leading  to  high 
places. 

Reasoning  thus,  Herriard  allowed  his  uneasiness  to 
diminish,  and,  as  the  time  of  his  marriage  drew  near, 
was  able  to  indulge  in  a  certain  sense  of  happiness  and 
security.  It  was  in  this  mood  that  on  the  day  appointed 
for  his  speech  he  journeyed  down  to  Bradbury.  On  his 
arrival  he  had  a  good  deal  of  business  to  get  through 
with  his  agent  and  principal  supporters,  and  this  kept 
his  mind  so  occupied  that  he  gave  scarcely  a  thought 
to  the  more  momentous  issues  which  he  had  left  behind 
in  town.  He  was,  however,  brought  back  to  them  in 
somewhat  startling  fashion  when,  on  driving  from  his 
hotel  to  the  hall  where  the  meeting  was  to  be  held,  he 
caught  sight  of  a  face,  which  was  uncomfortably  familiar 
to  him,  that  of  Hencher,  Gastineau's  confidential  body 
servant.  But,  after  the  first  start  it  gave  him,  the  idea 
of  the  man's  being  there  seemed  so 'unlikely,  and  even 


A  RIOT  261 

preposterous,  that  he  told  himself  he  must  have  made 
a  mistake;  the  Gastineau  business  was  on  his  nerves, 
and  had  made  him  recognize  Hencher  in  a  somewhat 
similar-looking  local  man.  Still,  knowing  Gastineau, 
and  the  subtle,  enterprising  methods  of  his  vindictive- 
ness,  the  idea  gave  him  recurrent  disquietude,  and,  try* 
as  he  would,  he  could  not  dismiss  from  his  mind  the 
possibility  that  the  man  he  had  seen  was  really 
Hencher,  and  that  his  presence  there  foreboded  mis- 
chief. 

Up  to  the  opening  of  the  proceedings  there  had  been 
no  hint  or  idea  of  opposition,  but  soon  after  the  busi- 
ness had  commenced  it  became  apparent  that  there  was 
what  seemed  an  organized  band  of  malcontents  in  the 
body  of  the  hall  who  meant  to  take  every  opportunity 
of  interrupting  the  speeches.  This  opposition  mani- 
fested itself  unmistakably  when  Herriard  rose  to  give 
his  address,  and  as  he  proceeded  the  noise  and  interrup- 
tions grew  more  insistent.  The  chairman  was  powerless 
to  preserve  order,  and,  as  the  organizers  of  the  meeting 
had  anticipated  no  sort  of  disturbance,  they  had  taken 
no  pains  to  provide  against  such  a  contingency.  There 
were  a  number  of  ill-looking  fellows  distributed  about 
the  hall  who  kept  a  running  fire  of  interruptions;  as 
soon  as  one  set  was  silenced,  the  game  was  taken  up 
by  others  in  a  different  quarter.  At  last  the  disturbance 
reached  such  a  pitch  that  Herriard  was  unable  to  make 
himself  heard,  and  to  continue  speaking  was  clearly 
futile.  At  this  juncture  two  or  three  stray  policemen 
were  brought  in  with  the  object  of  ejecting,  or,  at  least, 
overawing,  the  rowdy  element.  It,  however,  proved  to 
be  the  means  of  bringing  the  uproar  to  a  climax.  A 
provincial  policeman  is  usually  only  in  a  limited  and 


262  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

constructive  sense  typical  of  the  Law.  These  poor  men, 
received  with  a  derisive  roar,  stood  looking  rather  fool- 
ish and  conspicuously  incompetent  to  deal  with  the  sit- 
uation. The  disturbers  of  the  meeting  rose  at  them 
with  defiance  and  threats,  also  with  chaff  of  an  aggres- 
sively personal  nature.  In  the  midst  of  all  this  the  pur- 
pose of  the  meeting,  which  was  Herriard's  address, 
became  a  thing  of  naught;  so  he  and  his  supporters  on 
the  platform  sat  down  to  await  the  result  of  the  row 
in  more  or  less  patient  helplessness. 

Suddenly  a  whistle  sounded  through  the  hall,  and 
with  an  ominously  threatening  cry  the  malcontents  in 
all  parts  of  the  audience  turned  and  began  to  fight 
their  way  towards  the  platform. 

"Look  out!  They  are  going  to  storm  us!  "  cried  the 
chairman,  a  pompous  linen-draper  and  former  mayor, 
who  in  days  of  calm  was  wont  to  consider  himself  the 
ruling  spirit  of  the  town.  "We  had  better  take  care 
of  ourselves  and  our  hats,"  he  added  with  a  ghastly 
attempt  at  jocularity  and  self-possession.  His  pompos- 
ity had  gone  like  the  gas  in  a  burst  balloon;  he  was  in 
an  abject  state  of  terror,  and  incapable  of  making  a 
dignified  retreat.  All  the  idea  he  now  retained  of  his 
position  as  chairman  was  that  it  gave  him  an  excuse 
for  leading  the  way;  so,  although  there  were  ladies  on 
the  platform,  he  pushed  through  them  with  a  quavering, 
"Follow  me!  "  and  hurried  off.  Herriard  stood  facing 
the  storming  party,  and  looking  on  with  disgust  at  the 
free  fight  now  raging  in  the  body  of  the  hall.  But  the 
struggle  was  unequal,  the  well-disposed  members  of  the 
audience,  although  in  the  majority,  were  no  match  for 
the  rowdy  element  of  roughs  and,  it  seemed,  hired  bul- 
lies. The  outwork  of  the  reporters'  table  was  stormed; 


A  RIOT  263 

from  that  it  was  but  an  easy  leap  to  the  platform  where 
Herriard  still  stood  defiantly. 

A  man  touched  his  arm,  one  of  the  more  plucky  among 
the  officials.  "Come  away,  Mr.  Herriard,  quick!  You 
can  do  no  good  by  remaining  here.  The  meeting  is 
thoroughly  demoralized.  We  can  do  nothing  now.  It 
is  all  over." 

Reluctantly,  with  the  annoying  sense  of  a  wasted 
effort  and  lost  days,  Herriard  turned  and  let  himself 
be  hurried  from  the  platform  just  as  a  savage  cry  of 
exultation  announced  that  the  foremost  of  the  attack- 
ing party  had  gained  a  footing  on  it.  In  the  ante-room 
he  was  met  by  Mr.  Rigglesden,  his  chairman,  coming 
back  with  a  white  face. 

"We  are  cut  off,"  he  exclaimed,  shaking  with  fear. 
"The  street  outside  is  full  of  the  blackguards.  We  are 
in  a  trap. " 

"Nonsense,"  said  Herriard  impatiently,  as  he  pushed 
past  the  abject  local  worthy.  "Let  me  speak  to  them; 
I  '11  bring  them  to  their  senses. " 

"No  use,  "groaned  the  quondam  mayor.  "I  know 
our  Bradbury  rowdies.  They  are  terrors  when  their 
blood  's  up,  and  have  no  senses  to  be  brought  back  to. 
Mr.  Carter  and  gentlemen,  for  Heaven's  sake  keep  that 
door.  To  let  them  in  from  the  hall  will  be  as  much  as 
our  lives  are  worth." 

For  the  man  who  had  brought  Herriard  from  the 
platform  was,  with  three  other  young  fellows,  holding 
the  door  that  led  down  from  the  platform  against  the 
savage  efforts  that  were  being  made  to  force  it  open. 

Meanwhile  Herriard  had  pushed  his  way  through  the 
frightened  group  to  the  outer  door.  He  made  its  cus- 
todian unlock  it,  and  so,  passing  through,  he  presented 


264  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

himself  before  the  vicious  mob  outside.  His  appearance 
was  the  signal  for  a  shout  and  an  ugly  rush.  He  tried 
to  speak,  but  his  voice  was  drowned  by  the  howls,  and 
he  was  forced  back  into  the  doorway  by  the  assault. 
Blows  were  aimed  at  him,  and  he  saw  that  reasoning 
was  futile  and  courage  of  no  avail  against  what  was 
clearly  an  organized  attack.  So  he  retreated,  and  then 
engaged  with  his  supporters  in  a  struggle  to  hold  the 
door  against  the  crowd  which  were  flinging  themselves 
against  it.  In  the  midst  of  this  fierce  effort,  mingled 
cries  of  terror  and  triumph  behind  them  told  that  the 
inner  door  from  the  hall  had  at  length  been  forced  and 
that  the  roughs  were  streaming  into  the  ante-room. 
The  cries  increased  to  shrieks  and  shouts,  the  crush  be- 
came terrible,  but  through  it  the  ruffians  were  success- 
fully forcing  their  way  to  the  outer  door.  Herriard, 
hemmed  in,  turned  and  hit  out  desperately.  "Down 
him!  "  came  a  cry.  Next  moment  an  arm  encircled 
his  throat  from  behind.  By  an  effort  he  half  turned, 
ducked,  and  freed  himself  from  the  clutch.  But  as  he 
raised  his  head  again  he  received  a  heavy  blow  on  it 
and  dropped  senseless  to  the  floor. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

ALEXIA'S  VISITOR 

ON  that  same  evening  in  London  it  was  announced 
to  Countess  Alexia  that  a  Mr.  Maxton  was  in  the 
morning-room  waiting  to  see  her  on  urgent  business. 
Her  brother  was  not  at  home,  being  away  at  a  diplo- 
matic function.  Alexia  had  dined  alone  and  was  now 
busy  answering  a  batch  of  letters  of  congratulation 
which  the  news  of  her  approaching  marriage  had  brought. 
She  sent  down  a  request  to  know  on  what  business  so 
late  a  visitor  wished  to  see  her,  and  word  was  brought 
back  that  it  concerned  Mr.  Herriard  and  was  most  ur- 
gent. Not  satisfied  with  that  reply  and  beginning  to 
be  vaguely  suspicious,  Alexia  sent  to  say  that  she  was 
busy  and  would  be  glad  if  Mr.  Maxton  would  give  her 
in  writing  a  more  definite  idea  of  what  he  wished  to  say. 
In  a  few  minutes  the  suggested  note  was  handed  to  her. 
She  opened  it  with  some  apprehension.  It  consisted  of 
but  two  lines.  "Mr.  Herriard  has  met  with  a  serious 
accident  at  Bradbury. " 

Fighting  against  the  faintness  that  came  over  her 
as  she  realized  instantly  that  the  news  might  be  but 
half  told,  she  said  she  would  see  the  visitor,  and,  after  a 
few  moments  of  sickening  fear,  nerving  herself  bravely 
to  hear  the  worst,  she  went  down  to  the  room  where  the 
messenger  of  evil  waited. 

As  she  entered,  the  man  was  standing  with  his  back 
to  the  door,  scrutinizing  a  picture.  It  was  not  till 

265 


266  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

Alexia  had  come  some  way  into  the  room  that  he  turned, 
and  with  a  thrill  more  of  disgust  than  fear  she  recog- 
nized him. 

"Mr.  Gastineau!  " 

He  smiled  and  took  a  step  towards  her,  holding  out 
his  hand.  "Paul  Gastineau,  Countess,  risen  from  the 
dead." 

She  ignored  his  outstretched  hand,  affecting  to  look 
at  his  note  which  she  held.  "You  have  come  to  tell 
me  of  Mr.  Herriard?  "  she  said,  hoping  now  that  the 
message  might  have  been  but  a  trick  to  induce  her  to 
see  him.  "He  has  met  with  an  accident?  "  she  asked, 
with  a  touch  of  incredulity. 

Gastineau  gave  a  little  sympathetic  shrug.  "Poor 
Geoffrey !  Yes,  I  'm  afraid  he  has  had  a  bad  experience. 
I  have  had  a  telegram — you  know  we  have  of  late  been 
great  chums,  if  not  more — a  telegram  to  say  the  meeting 
was  broken  up  and  Herriard  hurt.  I  thought  I  could 
do  no  less  than  come  round  to  tell  you." 

Looking  at  him  steadily,  she  told  herself  that  he  was 
lying.  "  You  need  not  have  brought  the  message  your- 
self; you  might  have  sent  it,"  she  observed  coldly. 

He  was  evidently  stung  by  her  tone,  for  he  returned, 
with  a  touch  of  feeling,  "In  view  of  the  relations  which 
I  understand  exist  between  you  and  Herriard  I  should 
scarcely  have  cared  to  give  you  what  may  prove  to  be 
very  serious  news  in  an  off-hand  fashion.  I  regret  that 
my  well-meant  errand  has  met  with  so  ungracious  a 
reception. " 

" I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  Mr.  Herriard  has  been  hurt," 
Alexia  said  stiffly.  "Is  that  all?  " 

"Is  it  not  enough?  " 

"Quite.     I  mean,  I  will  not  detain  you  longer." 


ALEXIA'S  VISITOR  267 

"One  would  think,  Countess,"  he  said  quietly,  watch- 
ing her  with  probing  eyes,  "that  you  were  glad,  rather 
than  sorry,  to  hear  the  bad  news. " 

"You  can  hardly  expect  me  to  discuss  with  you  my 
feelings  on  the  subject, "  she  returned,  with  a  significant 
move  towards  the  bell. 

He  made  a  swift  step  forward  and  intercepted  her. 
"Alexia — Countess,"  he  said,  with  a  note  of  passion  in 
his  voice,  "is  this  my  welcome  back  to  life?  " 

"What  other,"  she  asked,  coldly  as  ever,  and  with  a 
self-possession  that  hid  her  knowledge  of  how  critical 
the  interview  must  be,  "could  you  expect  from  me?  " 

"I  had  hoped,"  he  answered  simply,  "for  one  of 
a  very  different  kind."  Then  his  manner  changed 
abruptly  with  a  bitter  exclamation.  "Welcome!  As 
though  I  had  not  atoned  by  years  of  hopeless  agony 
for  all  the  sins  of  my  past!  Alexia!  "  He  tried  to  take 
her  hand:  she  drew  it  away  with  a  movement  of  avoid- 
ance. 

"No,"  she  said  peremptorily;  "I  forbid  you  to  speak 
to  me  like  that. " 

He  bowed  his  head  in  submission  and  so  hid  the 
baulked  devil  that  shot  a  blaze  into  his  eyes.  "I  come 
back  to  life  and  the  world  to  find  you  as  beautiful, 
as  cold,  as  cruel  as  ever,"  he  murmured,  with  schooled 
humility. 

"I  cannot  listen  to  you  any  longer,"  Alexia  said. 
"Please  go." 

He  was  facing  her  now  with  a  look  of  fight  in  his 
eyes.  "My  message  to  you,"  he  protested  with  quiet 
insistence,  "was  two-fold.  I  warn  you,  for  your  own 
sake  and  Geoffrey  Herriard's,  not  to  dismiss  me  till  you 
have  heard  the  second  part. " 


268  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

She  gave  a  slight  sigh  of  impatience.  "If  I  must 

listen  to  you "  And  yet  she  felt  that  in  her  mind 

there  was  no  alternative. 

"  More  depends  upon  it  than  you  imagine, "  he  replied 
coolly.  "You  shall  not  be  kept  long;  I,  too,  am  busy." 

He  placed  a  chair  for  her,  and,  with  an  annoying 
consciousness  of  submission,  she  sat  down.  A  sense  of 
her  old  fear  and  dislike  of  the  man  was  creeping  over 
her,  and,  giving  her  greater  uneasiness  still,  the  sub- 
duing sense  of  his  dominant  will.  It  was  fortunate, 
she  thought,  that  she  had  to  act  only  on  the  defensive. 
Still,  it  might  afford  a  chance  of  divining  the  enemy's 
tactics. 

"I  had,"  he  began,  as  he  stood  before  her  in  the 
manifest  consciousness  of  power  in  will  and  brain,  "to 
come  in  here  under  a  false  name;  not  merely  because 
I  doubted  your  receiving  me,  but  because  Paul  Gasti- 
neau  is  to  the  world  still  dead,  at  least  for  some  time 
longer.  So  much  for  myself;  I  do  not  want  you,  of  all 
women,  to  think  of  me  as  a  trickster.  Now,  to  the 
point  of  my  errand.  You  are  going — you  must  make 
allowances  for  my  bluntness,  time  presses  and  I  am  a 
fighting  man  rather  than  a  diplomatist, — you  are  going 
to  marry  Geoffrey  Herriard,  very  soon;  but  sooner  or 
later  is  immaterial.  I  have  come, — forgive  me, — to  tell 
you  that  you  must  not  marry  him." 

"Why  not?"  The  question  was  put  quietly.  Alexia 
was  surprised  at  her  own  self-possession. 

Gastineau's  eyes  seemed  to  burn  upon  her  now.  "  Be- 
cause,"  he  answered  steadily,  "he  has  stolen,  or,  at 
least,  appropriated  you  from  me. " 

"No,  no,"  she  protested,  meeting  his  gaze  defiantly. 
"That  is  absurd.  You  have  no  right  to  say  that." 


ALEXIA'S  VISITOR  269 

"Then,"  he  rejoined,  with  his  cunning  smile,  "be- 
cause I  love  you. " 

"Oh!  "  Alexia  rose  with  an  exclamation  of  annoy- 
ance. "Mr.  Gastineau,  is  that  persecution  to  begin 
again?  " 

His  face  was  set  with  the  suggestion  of  purpose. 
"There  will  be  no  persecution  on  my  part,"  he  replied 
darkly.  "I  trust  we  are  respectively  too  sensible  to 
practise  or  to  court  it.  All  I  am  here  for  now  is  to 
enlighten  you,  the  woman  I  love  with  all  my  soul  and 
strength,  as  to  the  true  position  in  which  you  stand, 
in  a  word,  to  prevent  your  taking  the  shadow  for  the 
substance. " 

"I  think  I  understand  you,"  she  returned,  with  a 
disdainful  coldness  which  made  him  rage  inwardly,  "and 
can  save  you  the  trouble  of  inflicting  upon  me  a  repe- 
tition of  a  story  which  I  have  already  heard. " 

"Ah!  "  He  seemed  nettled  at  his  forestalling.  "So 
the  famous  Geoffrey  Herriard  has  been  clever  enough 
to  see  the  desirability  of  making  a  clean  breast  of  his 
position  before  he  was  found  out,  and  has  confessed 
that  his  cleverness  has  been  borrowed — like  his  career — 
from  another  man's  brains,  eh?  He  has  told  you?  " 

"Everything." 

Gastineau 's  face  relaxed  into  a  sneering  smile.  "I 
am  sorry  to  hear  that,  since  it  means  that  he  has  broken 
his  word  of  honour,  a  solemn  promise  made  to  me  to 
whom  he  owes  everything. " 

"I  should  think,"  Alexia  said  quietly,  "his  course 
was  justified." 

He  glanced  at  her  sharply,  and  saw  through  her  words 
that  she  knew  all.  "  No  doubt, "  he  rejoined,  "  he  would 
try  to  justify  it,  but  we  need  scarcely  stay  to  argue  that 


270  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

point.  What  I  ask  you  to  realize  is  the  fact  that  you 
are  rejecting  the  real  man  in  favour  of  his  empty 
mask. " 

"I  do  not  accept  your  estimate  of  Mr.  Herriard," 
she  replied  curtly. 

He  seemed  charged  with  the  magnetism  of  a  supreme, 
coercive  will,  yet  her  coldness  always  held  him  at  bay. 
He  could  scarcely  hope  to  argue  successfully  against 
that  baffling  attitude  of  dislike. 

"I  wish,"  he  continued,  schooling  his  face  and  man- 
ner to  an  insinuating  humility,  "that  you  would  try  to 
find  it  in  your  heart  to  entertain  a  more  favourable 
estimate  of  me.  Alexia, "  he  went  on  passionately, 
tactfully  taking  no  more  than  a  step  forward  as  he  saw 
her  shrink  from  his  advance,  "let  me  call  you  once  by 
that  name,  if  it  is  the  last  time;  Alexia,  why  can  you 
not  love  me?  What,  in  Heaven's  name,  is  the  curse 
upon  me  that  gives  hate  in  return  where  I  have  beg- 
gared myself  for  love?  Alexia,"  he  urged,  with  a  pas- 
sion that  now  was  genuine  enough,  "tell  me,  as  one 
human  soul  speaking  to  another,  what  there  is  in  me 
that  repels  you,  you  of  all  women,  the  last  in  the  world 
whom  I  could  have  imagined  rejecting  substance  for 
shadow.  Tell  me,  even  though  it  be  to  my  utter  de- 
spair, tell  me  the  truth,  why  do  you  so  hate  me?  " 

He  was  bending  forward,  his  face  working,  his  eyes 
avidly  pleading,  his  body  quivering  betwixt  infinite  de- 
sire and  intense  restraint.  Before  him  Alexia  stood  like 
one  at  bay  before  a  crouching  tiger,  desperate  yet  un- 
flinching. Perhaps  had  she  not  added  the  indication  of 
courage  to  beauty  it  might  have  lessened  the  deadliness 
of  the  attack.  As  it  was,  she  could  meet  his  eyes  and 
answer  steadily: 


ALEXIA'S  VISITOR  271 

"I  never  hated  you  till  you  began  to  persecute 
me " 

"Persecute!  "  he  interrupted  her  impatiently,  almost 
with  temper.  "Cannot  a  man  declare  his  love  and  do 
all  in  his  power  to  get  it  returned  without  being  called 
a  persecutor?  " 

"It  is  at  least  unchivalrous, "  she  replied,  "to  try  to 
compel  a  woman's  love.  In  the  old  days  I  could  have 
had  none  for  you.  Now  it  is  more  than  ever  impos- 
sible." 

His  face  lowered.  "Since  Herriard  appeared  on  the 
scene,"  he  said  through  his  teeth.  "Herriard,  who  is 
my  creature,  the  puppet  of  my  whim,  the  marionette 
that,  lying  on  my  sick  couch,  I  made  to  dance  to  my 
fancy,  and  have  ended,  to  my  sorrow,  by  galvanizing 
into  my  rival." 

He  spoke  with  an  intensity  of  bitterness  that  seemed 
to  strip  naked  his  jealous,  malignant  soul.  But  Alexia 
appeared  to  take  little  heed  of  the  stinging  words.  "Mr. 
Herriard,"  she  said  coolly,  "has  little  or  nothing  to  do 
with  my  feeling  towards  you. " 

"No?  Then  we  brush  the  lay  figure  aside  out  of  our 
consideration. "  He  accompanied  the  words  with  a  con- 
temptuous sweep  of  the  arm.  "  At  least, "  he  continued, 
"I  am  glad  you  realize  that  a  mere  speaking  puppet 
has  no  right  to  stand  between  intellects  like  yours  and 
mine.  Now,  tell  me,  what  have  I  done  to  stand  worse 
with  you  now  than  in  the  old  days?  " 

"You  have  slandered  me,  Mr.  Gastineau, "  she  an- 
swered steadily. 

He  made  a  gesture  of  making  light  of  a  charge  not 
worth  denying.  "To  the  doll,  to  the  child,  to  keep  him 
from  meddling  with  what  was  meant  for  his  betters, 


272  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

as  we  keep  a  baby's  hands  off  a  valuable  ornament  by 
saying  it  will  bite  him.  Surely  my  presence  here,  the 
words  I  have  spoken  to  you,  give  the  lie  to  the  idea 
that  I  could  ever  believe  ill  of  you. " 

"To  my  mind,"  she  retorted,  "your  slander,  of  all 
men's,  gives  the  lie  to  what  you  have  forced  me  to 
listen  to  to-night. " 

A  curious  change  swept  over  his  face.  He  had  real- 
ized, even  before  she  did,  the  half-thought  that  was 
suggested  by  and  lay  behind  her  words. 

"You  are  quite  right,"  he  returned,  with  a  strange 
calming  of  the  passion  that  had  seemed  to  rage  within 
him.  "Your  reproach  had  more  justice  in  it  than  you, 
possibly,  imagine.  I  should  have  been  the  last  man  to 
accuse  you  even  by  innuendo.  But  I  was  desperate,  a 
cripple,  helpless  and,  at  that  time,  hopeless.  My  love 
made  me  mad  with  jealousy,  and  it  is  the  curse  of  jeal- 
ousy that  it  can  be  cruel  even  to  the  thing  it  loves.  To 
think  that  a  feather  of  my  own  disabled  wing  had  plumed 
the  shaft  that  had  struck  my  heart — yes,  Alexia,  I  must 
have  been  mad,  or  I  could  never  have  breathed  a  sug- 
gestion against  the  woman  whom  I  love  beyond  the 
power  of  all  words  to  tell. " 

"And  whose  offence,  whose  provocation  in  your  eyes 
are  that  she  can  never  return  the  feeling,"  she  said  with 
quiet  firmness. 

He  bowed  his  head,  strangely  submissive.  "I  do 
not  despair,"  he  replied,  in  a  low  voice.  "I  cannot. 
Despair  would  mean  death,  and  life  is  strong  within 
me;  only  less  strong  than  my  love.  That  I  have  laid 
at  your  feet,  only  to  be  accepted  with  hate  and  dis- 
trust. I  will  prove  my  sincerity.  I  will  put  the  other, 
my  life,  into  your  keeping.  Then  you  will  have  all  I 


ALEXIA'S  VISITOR  273 

have,  since,  with  my  love,  my  very  soul  and  spirit  are 
yours.     Alexia,  I  give  my  life  into  your  hands. " 

He  paused;  and  the  silence  lasted  till  she  was  forced 
to  ask,  with  a  suggestion  of  incredulity,  "What  do  you 
mean?  " 

"I  mean,"  he  answered  deliberately,  "that  I  am  going 
to  prove  the  sincerity  of  my  love  for  you  by  entrusting 
you  with  a  secret  on  which  my  life  may  depend.  You 
must  believe  in  me,  when  I  confide  to  you  alone  of  all 
the  world  that  Captain  Martindale  met  his  death  at  my 
hand. " 
18 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE   END   OF   THE    INTERVIEW 

THE  declaration,  although  no  news  to  Alexia,  was, 
coming  as  it  did,  startlingly  unexpected.  It  was, 
moreover,  as  she  instinctively  realized,  a  cunning  move 
which  forced  her  into  an  embarrassing  position.  But 
she  gave  no  sign  that  she  was  already  aware  of  the 
crucial  fact.  "Yours?  "  she  exclaimed  in  a  tone  of 
horror  which  was  not  altogether  affected.  "You  killed 
Captain  Martindale?  " 

Gastineau  nodded.  His  face  bore  a  look  almost  of 
sympathetic  amusement  at  her  concern.  "By  what 
was  practically  an  accident,"  he  answered;  "although 
it  might  be  hard  to  prove  that.  It  is  due  to  myself  now 
to  tell  you  exactly  how  it  happened.  Do  sit  down," 
he  continued,  with  an  easy  smile,  as  he  pushed  a  chair 
towards  her.  "You  need  not  be  afraid  of  me;  on  the 
contrary,  it  is  I  who  might  fear  you." 

He  moved  away  from  her  chair,  and  she  sat  down. 

"Of  course,"  he  began,  "you  remember  the  night  of 
the  Vaux  House  ball,  and,  perhaps,  what  had  passed 
between  us  just  before.  I  will  not  inflict  upon  you  a 
description  of  my  state  of  mind  at  that  time,  except  to 
say  that  I  was  mad  for  love  of  you.  I  have  nothing 
if  not  strength  of  will,  yet  it  all  shrivelled  to  naught 
where  you  were  concerned;  strive  as  I  would,  I  could 
not  overcome  the  love  which  tortured  me  a  million 

274 


THE  END  OF  THE  INTERVIEW        275 

times  more  than,  as  I  felt  to  my  shame  and  grief,  it 
troubled  and  offended  you." 

He  spoke,  urged  by  present  rather  than  past  passion; 
eagerly  as  he  was  watching  for  it,  he  could  detect  no 
sign  that  his  burning  words  touched  her. 

"I  went,"  he  continued,  "  to  Vaux  House  that  night 
desperately  determined  to  make  one  last  effort  for — 
no,  not  for  your  love,  that  I  knew  to  be  a  miracle  be- 
yond that  night's  working — but  for  your  toleration;  for 
a  kind  look,  a  smile,  a  dance,  the  touch  of  your  hand, 
the  sound  of  your  voice;  just  a  crumb,  even  to  the 
mocking  of  my  hunger. " 

He  paused.  Alexia  sat  with  averted  face,  motionless 
as  a  statue,  yet  with  the  suggestion  of  being  keenly 
attentive.  If  he  expected  her  to  speak,  her  attitude 
never  flattered  him  that  she  would  break  her  silence. 

"I  little  knew,"  he  resumed,  "to  what  fate  I  was 
going.  That  the  racking  torture  I  suffered  could  be 
heightened  was  inconceivable.  Ah!  I  never  imagined 
then  the  depths  of  despair,  and  worse,  to  which  love 
can  lead  a  man.  Up  to  the  moment  I  entered  Vaux 
House  I  had  suffered,  Heaven  knows  how  greatly,  from 
your  coldness,  from  your  rejection  of  all  my  advances, 
from,  as  I  flattered  myself,  your  misjudgment  of  me, 
but,  except  negatively,  I  had  been  free  from  the  hell's 
torture  of  jealousy.  Now  you  can  comprehend  some- 
thing of  my  mind  on  that  fateful  night?  " 

She  made,  almost  indifferently,  a  slight  inclination  of 
the  head;  not  looking  towards  him,  or  giving  any  fur- 
ther sign  of  sympathy. 

He  proceeded.  "My  story  shall  not  be  long  now. 
I  saw  you,  and  watched  you  dancing,  watched  you  en- 
viously, longingly.  Still  there  was  just  a  spark  left 


276  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

in  the  ashes  of  my  hopes,  which  at  our  first  meeting 
had  blazed  up  so  brightly.  I  was  awaiting  my  oppor- 
tunity, and  presently  it  seemed  to  have  come.  I  had 
seen  you  leave  the  ball-room;  I  slipped  out  by  another 
door  intending  to  make  my  way  round  and  meet  you; 
anticipating,  hoping  that,  by  biding  my  time,  I  might 
find  you  alone.  Accordingly  I  worked  my  way  round 
by  the  outer  suite  of  rooms  till  I  came  to  the  point 
where  I  calculated  we  might  meet.  I  was  not  wrong. 
I  saw  you  in  the  room  beyond  with  two  men,  one  of 
whom  was  Captain  Martindale.  The  other  man  went 
away;  you  and  Martindale  spoke  together,  and  then, 
evidently  at  his  suggestion,  you  and  he  strolled  towards 
an  inner  room,  a  flirtation  corner.  You  remember?  " 
Again  she  nodded  gravely,  speaking  no  word.  "You 
did  not  notice  me,"  Gastineau  resumed.  "Your  talk 
with  Martindale  was  too  engrossing;  confidential  enough 
to  make  me  burn  with  jealousy.  At  the  door  of  the 
inner  room  you  hesitated.  It  was  natural,  having  re- 
gard to  your  partner's  reputation.  He  laid  his  hand 
upon  your  arm,  urging  you  to  go  in.  You  shook  off 
his  grasp — there  was  a  thrill  of  satisfaction  to  me  in 
that, — he  went  on  a  pace,  persuading  you  to  follow. 
I  watched  anxiously  for  the  result,  meaning  to  accost 
you  should  you  turn  back.  But  he  prevailed,  and  you 
went  slowly  after  him  into  the  room.  Ah!  how  I  hated 
him!  How  I  tried  to  think  the  worse  of  you  for  yield- 
ing. I  quietly  crossed  the  room  to  the  doorway  through 
which  you  had  disappeared,  my  mad  jealousy  making 
me  careless  of  what  I  did.  At  the  door  I  stopped  and 
listened.  I  could  hear  your  voices  in  the  room  beyond, 
but  not  your  words.  Making  a  slight  change  in  my  po- 
sition, my  foot  touched  something  hard  on  the  carpet. 


THE  END  OF  THE  INTERVIEW         277 

It  was  the  little  jewelled  sword,  the  hair  ornament.  In- 
stantly I  recognized  it  as  yours;  you  may  be  sure  that 
every  detail  of  your  appearance  was  familiar  to  me. 
I  took  it  up  eagerly.  At  last,  Countess,  you  have  the 
solution  of  that  element  in  the  mystery." 

"Yes."  The  monosyllable  sounded  cold,  almost  re- 
sentful. 

"Chance,"  he  continued,  as  coolly  now  as  though 
he  were  opening  a  case  in  Court,  "had  given  me  an 
excuse  for  breaking  in  upon  your  flirtation,  of  spoiling 
Martindale's  opportunity,  but  jealousy  kept  me  back; 
hurry  would  spoil  my  chance  of  appearing  at  the  criti- 
cal moment.  I  tried  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  you,  but 
could  not;  to  have  passed  through  the  doorway  would 
have  meant  to  show  myself.  But  I  saw  in  my  diffi- 
culty that  there  seemed  to  be  another  entrance  to  the 
room.  If  I  could  get  round  that  way  I  might  hear 
what  Martindale  was  saying.  The  thought  uppermost 
in  my  mind  was  to  protect  you  from  him,  a  man  of 
notoriously  bad  principles  where  women  were  concerned  ; 
you  may  believe  me,  Countess,  when  I  say  that  jealousy 
did  not  altogether  account  for  my  resolve  to  intervene. 
It  was  bad  enough  to  fail  to  win  you;  to  lose  you  to  a 
man  of  Martindale's  character  was  not  to  be  endured. 
I  went  quickly  back  and  through  another  room  which 
I  knew  must  lead  from  that  in  which  you  stayed.  I 
opened  the  communicating  door  quietly;  as  luck  would 
have  it  a  portiere  hung  beyond  it;  behind  this  I  could 
stand,  in  the  room,  yet  unseen.  I  am  telling  you  every- 
thing, Countess,  exactly  as  it  happened;  palliating  noth- 
ing, excusing  nothing,  save  on  the  ground  of  the  de- 
vouring love  that  had  possession  of  me." 

If  he  looked  for  a  softening  of  her  attitude,  none  was 


278  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

visible;  it  was  simply  attentive  without  a  sign  of  feeling. 
"  I  stood  there, "  he  resumed,  as  though  now  desirous 
to  make  an  end  quickly,  "listening  with  jealous  ears. 
Your  voices  were  so  low  that  I  could  hear  little  of  your 
talk,  which  was  all  the  worse  for  my  state  of  mind. 
But  presently  a  word  reached  my  ears  like  a  stab.  It 
stung  me  out  of  my  restraint.  I  pulled  aside  the  cur- 
tain and  looked  into  the  room.  I  saw — the  kiss." 

"Without  knowing  what  led  up  to  it."  Alexia  spoke 
in  a  level  voice,  as  though  forced  to  suggest  in  her  jus- 
tification another  than  the  obvious  reason. 

Gastineau  continued.  "You  left  him  then  quickly; 
and,  to  my  surprise,  he  did  not  follow.  I  could  just 
see  the  self-satisfied  look  on  his  face  as  he  stood  looking 
after  you.  It  was  that  look  that  kept  me  there  till  he 
noticed  me.  I  suppose  he  gathered  from  my  expres- 
sion what  I  had  heard  and  seen;  anyhow  he  began  to 
abuse  and  insult  me — after  the  manner  of  an  empty- 
headed  Guardsman  who  had  been  caught  playing  a  dis- 
reputable game.  I  replied  hotly  enough;  my  rage  and 
jealous  hate  were  beyond  restraint;  as  to  being  an 
eavesdropper,  I  had  as  much  right  there  as  he;  he,  a 
dishonourable  Philander,  had  everything  to  be  ashamed 
of;  I  nothing.  I  waited  for  a  break  in  the  somewhat 
sharp  sarcasm  with  which  he  assailed  me,  and  then 
began,  in  the  most  stinging  language  my  profession  had 
taught  me,  to  paint  his  character,  his  reputation  as  I 
then  saw  it.  I  dare  say  he  had  never  before  had  such 
taunts  flung  at  him.  I  stung  him  into  a  state  of  speech- 
less rage;  the  few  retorts  he  had  attempted  were  feeble 
and  simply  furnished  me  with  fresh  turns  of  recrimina- 
tion. As  his  temper  rose,  mine  fell;  for  I  began  to 
enjoy  the  castigation  I  was  giving  him.  At  last  the 


THE  END  OF  THE  INTERVIEW         279 

cutting  slashes  of  my  tongue  whipped  him  beyond  en- 
durance. 

"  'You !  '  he  cried,  choking  with  rage.  'I  '11 

teach  you  to  insult  me;  I  '11  show  you  the  difference 
between  a  soldier  and  a  wretched  limb  of  the  law;  I  '11 
shake  the  miserable  life  out  of  you.' 

"He  came  up  and  took  me  by  the  throat.  I  am  not  a 
physically  weak  man,  and  he  found  me  stronger  than 
he  had  imagined.  I  released  myself  from  his  grip  with- 
out much  difficulty.  This  enraged  him  still  more;  he 
was  one  of  those  stupid  men  who  cannot  bear  to  have 
their  self-constituted  superiority  put  in  question.  With 
insulting  words,  he  attacked  me  again,  but  our  first  en- 
counter had  brought  to  my  recollection  that  I  still  held 
in  my  hand  your  little  sword.  I  had  no  wish  for  a 
further  contest,  so  retreated  a  few  steps  as  he  advanced 
upon  me. " 

"  'Keep  off,  you  great  bully!  '  I  said.  'If  you  lay 
hands  on  me  again  it  will  be  the  worse  for  you.  A 
pity  you  cannot  behave  yourself  towards  either  women 
or  men. ' 

"Following  me  up  with  a  vicious  look  in  his  eyes, 
Martindale  made  a  sudden  rush  forward  and  seized  me 
again  by  the  throat,  this  time  with  both  hands.  '  I  '11 
teach  you  to  spy  upon  me,  you  skunk:  I  '11  spoil  your 
game  before  you  get  the  chance  of  spoiling  mine  again. ' 
His  big,  strong  hands  encircled  my  throat,  one  from  the 
front  and  the  other  from  behind;  the  clutch  became  so 
vicious  that  I  could  not  breathe;  the  man  was,  I  knew, 
mad  with  rage;  honestly  I  thought  he  would  strangle 
me.  Against  the  terrible  grip  I  could  do  nothing;  all 
power  was  leaving  me  with  my  breath;  the  agony  be- 
came intense,  it  was  that  of  death;  my  mind  became 


280  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

suddenly  clear  as  a  dying  man's,  and,  with  the  sudden 
flash  of  hyper-consciousness,  I  remembered  again  the 
little  weapon  I  still  clutched.  On  the  instant  I  struck 
out  at  him  with  it,  in  a  last  despairing  effort,  with  all 
the  strength  that  was  left  me.  So  little  did  I  count  on 
the  effectiveness  of  the  stroke,  that  it  was  with  surprise 
I  felt  the  grip  round  my  throat  almost  simultaneously 
relax.  Martindale  gave  a  kind  of  choking  sigh,  and  fell 
forward  upon  me.  Reeling  with  faintness,  I  had  just 
strength  enough  to  break  his  fall  to  the  floor;  he  slid 
down  through  my  arms  and  lay  there,  dead.  That  is 
all;  the  rest  is  known  to  the  world.  It  is  good  of  you 
to  have  listened  so  patiently  to  my  long  story.  But  I 
owe  it  to  myself,  if  not  to  you,  to  convince  you  that  I 
am  not  quite  a  murderer,  and  at  the  same  time  to  give 
you  the  true  account  of  how  Martindale  came  by  his 
death. " 

He  waited  for  her  response.  "Yes,"  she  said,  break- 
ing at  last  the  tenseness  of  her  attitude;  "I  am  glad  to 
know  how  it  really  happened. "  For  the  first  time  she 
let  her  eyes  rest  on  his  face,  but,  though  his  own  seemed 
to  search  for  it,  there  was  no  suggestion  of  tenderness 
or  invitation  in  them. 

He  took  a  step  towards  her.  "I  hope,"  he  said,  "it 
may  make  all  the  difference  in  our  relations  to  each 
other. " 

The  grey  eyes  hardened  now.  "If  you  mean  that 
we  should  be  more  than  comparative  strangers,  that 
cannot  be." 

She  spoke  boldly,  and  he  wondered  whether  her  spirit 
could  be  as  brave  as  her  words. 

"Indeed,"  he  returned,  with  a  smile  of  underlying 
resolve,  "we  must  be  more  than  that." 


THE  END  OF  THE  INTERVIEW         281 

"Must?  "  She  repeated  the  word  with  a  little  scorn- 
ful laugh.  Then  with  more  dignity,  "You  surely  forget 
yourself  to  say  that  to  me. " 

"Shall  I  tell  you,"  he  spoke  more  humbly,  "why  I 
used  the  word?  " 

Her  only  answer  was  a  shrug  of  impatience,  indiffer- 
ence. 

"It  was,"  he  continued,  "because  I  feel  certain,  am 
absolutely  convinced  that  you  and  I,  united,  would  be 
a  great  power  in  this  world  of  ours.  That  there  are  no 
two  people  living  to-day  whose  alliance  would  lead  to 
a  more  splendid  position.  When  I  speak  of  power,  I 
mean  intellectual,  social,  political;  a  power  in  every- 
thing that  could  work  for  the  good  we  should  choose; 
in  a  very  few  years  our  influence  would  be  unbounded, 
our  wealth  and  position  more  than  sufficient  for  every 
aim.  This  is  not  the  mere  vapouring  of  a  man's  vanity. 
I  know  and  feel  my  power,  it  would  be  absurd  affecta- 
tion to  shut  my  eyes  to  what  I  have  already  accom- 
plished. Take  but  one  instance.  When  lately  I  was 
lying  half-dead  on  a  couch  from  which  I  never  thought 
to  rise,  I  made  another  man's  career,  young  Herriard's; 
pushed  him,  without  an  effort,  in  a  whim  of  mere  grati- 
tude for  a  slight  service  rendered  me,  pushed  him  into 
a  brilliant  position,  as  easily  as  I  could  move  a  piece 
on  a  chess-board.  You  know  that?  ' 

"Yes;  I  understand  that,"  she  answered,  almost 
mechanically. 

"So  I  am  justified,"  Gastineau  resumed,  his  pleading 
growing  more  urgent,  "in  saying  that,  now  my  health 
is  restored,  nothing  can  stop  me;  the  force  that  drives 
me  through  the  throng  of  my  fellows  is  irresistible.  If 
only  you  were  by  my  side,  the  world  would  be  at  our 


282  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

feet;  since,  allied,  we  should  represent  the  great  forces 
that  have  ever  moved,  will  ever  move  it.  Countess — 
Alexia,  forgive  my  boldness  when  I  tell  you  that  we, 
you  and  I,  have  no  right,  it  would  be  an  act  of  short- 
sighted folly,  to  throw  ourselves  away  on  inferior  mates. 
You  must  know  this,  you  who  are  so  clever,  who  can 
read  men  and  the  world;  I  cannot  imagine  that  you  can 
be  blind  to  the  hideous  mistake  you  would  commit  in 
allying  yourself  to  a  mere  puppet,  a  weakling,  the  sim- 
ulacrum of  a  man,  such  as  Geoffrey  Herriard." 

"Mr.  Gastineau, "  Alexia  interrupted  him  with 
scarcely  restrained  indignation.  "I  can  listen  to  this 
language  no  longer." 

"But  you  must,  Countess,"  he  returned  insistently. 
"I  am  bound  to  put  the  question,  the  chance  of  your 
future  with  its  unparalleled  prospects,  before  you 
plainly,  even  at  the  risk  of  offence.  I  have  in  this 
touched  only  on  the  wordly  reasons  for  our  alliance, 
intruding  no  word  of  love;  of  mine  which  fills  my  whole 
being,  making  me  your  slave,  your  adoring  worshipper; 
of  yours  which  I  feel  in  my  heart  will  come  to  be  mine 
one  day.  Countess,  can  you  reject  me  now?  Have  I  not 
been  frank,  and  laid  bare  my  heart  and  very  soul  and 
the  terrible  secret  of  my  life  before  you?  Alexia,  put 
away  all  these  vain  fancies  and  prejudices;  accept  the 
power,  the  empire  which  I  cast  at  your  feet,  and 
tell  me  you  will  be  my  wife."  As  the  note  of  passion 
deepened  he  tried,  making  a  swift  approach,  to  clasp 
her  in  his  arms,  but  she  drew  herself  up  proudly  and 
repulsed  him. 

"Alexia,"  he  urged,  desperately  intent,  "I  will  give 
you  power  beyond  every  other  woman  in  the  kingdom, 
I  will  raise  you  to  a  height  more  dazzling  than  you 


THE  END  OF  THE  INTERVIEW         283 

dream  of.  It  shall  be  my  one  object  in  life,  I  swear  it. 
Don't,  don't  reject  me.  Think  what  you  refuse.  Oh," 
he  cried,  almost  savagely,  as  her  attitude  grew  even 
more  repelling,  "tell  me  what  it  is  that  makes  you  hate 
me  so.  Have  I  not  confessed  the  truth  to  you,  and 
purged  the  taint  of  blood-guiltiness  from  my  soul? 
Alexia,"  he  demanded,  with  passionate  fierceness,  "tell 
me!  You  shall  tell  me." 

But  she  gave  no  sign  of  faltering  before  the  tempest 
of  his  insistence. 

"Mr.  Gastineau, "  she  said,  as  coldly  as  the  situation 
permitted,  and  with  more  than  a  touch  of  decision, 
"this  interview  has  lasted  long  enough,  too  long.  Let 
it  come  to  an  end  now.  No  good  purpose  can  be  served 
by  my  listening  to  you  any  longer.  Understand  once, 
and  for  all  time,  that  under  no  circumstances  can  I 
accept  your  proposal,  which  is  made  dishonourable  by 
the  very  fact  of  my  engagement  to  Mr.  Herriard.  That 
is  all  I  have  to  say  to  you.  Please  go." 

Gastineau's  face  had  been  dark  with  a  strong  man's 
repressed  anger;  now  it  lightened  strangely  as  with  the 
anticipation  of  a  premeditated  stroke.  "Then  you 
reject  my  offer,  Countess,  absolutely?  "  he  demanded 
quietly. 

"Absolutely."  The  grey  eyes  met  his  steadily, 
without  a  sign  of  compromise.  And  in  his  there  was 
no  acceptance  of  defeat,  but  rather  a  challenge. 

"I  have  asked  you  to  do  nothing  dishonourable, 
Countess,"  he  said  calmly,  "knowing,  as  I  do,  that  your 
engagement  with  Herriard  will  come  to  nothing." 

More  than  a  challenge  now;  it  was  a  threat. 

"I  cannot  discuss  that  with  you,"  Alexia  returned. 

"If,"  he  said,  with  a  cold  deliberateness  that  was 


284  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

significant  of  a  purpose,  "you  have  any  regard  for 
Geoffrey  Herriard,  you  will  best  show  it  by  accepting 
me." 

"  You  have  had  my  answer, "  she  said,  moving  towards 
the  bell. 

"Given  in  ignorance,"  he  retorted,  "in  wilful  blind- 
ness as  to  what  the  future  may  hold  for  you."  He 
moved  nearer  to  her,  his  face  resolute  and  threatening. 
"If  Herriard  is  not  already  dead,  he  will  never  live  to 
be  your  husband. " 

She  gave  an  instant's  upward  glance  at  the  face, 
whose  expression  of  sinister  power  beat  back  the  con- 
tempt she  tried  to  show  in  hers.  Without  a  word  she 
put  her  hand  to  the  bell.  Before,  however,  she  could 
ring,  the  door  opened,  and  the  butler  came  in  with  a 
telegram.  Alexia  took  it,  and  turned  as  though  to  dis- 
miss Gastineau. 

"You  had  better  open  it,  Countess,"  he  said  quietly, 
"before  I  go.  It  probably  confirms  my  news  of  Her- 
riard." 

Alexia  was  in  two  minds;  but  in  her  desire  above  all 
things  not  to  show  fear,  she  tore  open  the  telegram. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  with  a  supreme  effort  to  hide  her 
sickening  terror,  "it  confirms  what  you  have  told  me. 
Good-night. " 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE    FACE    IN   THE    BOX 

BY  the  earliest  train  next  morning  Alexia  and  her 
brother  travelled  down  to  Bradbury,  and  found 
to  their  relief  that  Herriard's  condition  was  not  nearly 
so  serious  as  they  had  feared.  He  was  suffering  from 
a  wound  in  the  head  and  slight  concussion  caused  by 
the  vicious  blow  that  had  been  dealt  him;  but  the  doctor 
made  light  of  his  hurt,  and  declared  two  or  three  days 
would  see  him  practically  recovered. 

This  was  grateful  news  to  Alexia,  who  had  dreaded 
the  worst;  nevertheless  the  ugly,  haunting  fact  remained 
of  a  malignant  purpose  secretly  at  work  against  her 
lover  and  herself.  None  of  the  local  politicians  could 
account  for  what  was  admittedly  an  organized  attack. 
It  had  taken  the  whole  town  by  surprise,  not  merely 
by  its  unusual  ferocity,  but  by  the  comparative  absence 
of  adequate  motive,  and  by  the  secrecy  with  which  it 
had  been  planned.  But  to  Alexia  it  was  no  mystery. 
She  recognized  well  enough  the  determined,  energetic 
brain  that  had  conceived  and  designed  the  murderous 
affray,  and  she  was  well  aware  how  thankful  (if  fear 
could  leave  room  for  gladness)  she  might  be  that  the 
attack  had  failed  to  achieve  its  ulterior  and  especial 
object.  Gastineau's  words  to  her  had  made  that  plain 
enough. 

Nevertheless,  so  anxious  was  she  not  to  retard  or  jeop- 
ardize her  lover's  recovery  that  until  it  was  almost 

285 


286  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

complete  she  said  nothing  to  him  of  Gastineau's  visit. 
Then  she  told  him  everything,  and  the  diabolical  plot 
became  clear  to  them  both.  It  was  certain  now  that 
the  man  Herriard  had  seen  was  Hencher;  to  him,  doubt- 
less, had  been  left  the  final  conduct  of  the  attack;  it 
must,  too,  have  been  he  who  had  sent  off  the  late  tele- 
gram to  Alexia.  But  the  whole  object  and  motive  of 
the  affair  were  so  clearly  the  outcome  of  Gastineau's 
design  against  Herriard,  that  it  seemed  scarcely  worth 
while  to  piece  together  the  details  of  the  scheme. 

"Naturally,  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  for  his 
safety  to  put  me  out  of  the  way,"  Herriard  said  bit- 
terly; "quite  apart  from  his  desire  to  marry  you.  You 
and  I  are  the  only  two  people  in  the  world  he  has  really 
to  fear;  we  know  too  much;  in  fact,  everything.  If 
once  I  were  dead,  and  you  his  wife,  that  fear  would  be 
laid  to  rest,  and  he  would  be  free  to  practise  whatever 
new  scheme  of  life  he  may  have  decided  upon." 

"Then,"  suggested  Alexia,  restlessly  eager,  "let  us 
forestall  him,  and  tell  everything  to  the  police.  It  is 
our  only  chance.  Are  we  to  be  at  the  mercy  of  this 
devil  incarnate?  " 

"Who  has  none,"  was  the  gloomy  reply.  "No," 
Herriard  continued,  with  a  shake  of  the  head;  "there 
is  no  hope  in  that.  I  can  only  repeat  that  there  is 
nothing  tangible  against  Gastineau;  only  a  suspicion, 
on  which  the  authorities  would  hardly  dare  to  arrest 
him.  His  supposititious  death  is  no  offence  at  law. " 

"But,  my  dear  Geoffrey,  are  you,  then,  to  go  for- 
ever in  fear  of  your  life?  Do  these  threats  and  attempts 
constitute  no  offence?  " 

Herriard  laughed  hopelessly.  "Who  could  prove 
them?  Do  you  think  that  calculating  mind  has  not 


THE  FACE  IN  THE  BOX  287 

foreseen  and  provided  against  every  possible  contin- 
gency? It  would  give  a  man  of  Gastineau's  resource 
little  trouble  to  loose  himself  from  any  knots  with  which 
we  might  try  to  bind  him.  My  story  of  his  threats  he 
would  probably  laugh  out  of  court." 

"But  his  attack  upon  you  in  your  chambers?  " 

"It  would  be  uncorroborated.  He  would  probably 
swear  that  I  attacked  him;  and  our  former  relations 
would  give  colour  to  the  story  he  would  concoct,  while 
they  would  tend  to  the  discredit  of  my  evidence.  No, 
dear  one,  I  see  no  help  or  hope  from  an  appeal  to  the  law. 
Just  think  how  improbable,  how  incredible  my  story 
would  sound  told  in  the  dry  atmosphere  of  a  Law  Court, 
and  impugned  by  the  cleverest  brain  in  the  profession. " 

"Yes;  I  fear  you  are  right,"  Alexia  said  dejectedly. 

"Even  if  I  gained  my  point,"  Herriard  went  on, 
"it  would  not  mean  effective  protection  against  him. 
London  is  the  best  policed  city  in  the  world,  but  that 
does  not  prevent  a  man's  life  being  absolutely  at  the 
mercy  of  any  other  man's  determination  to  take  it. 
And  Gastineau's  purpose  is,  we  know,  above  everything 
tenacious  and  relentless. " 

"Geoffrey,  my  darling,"  Alexia  cried  in  her  agita- 
tion, "what  are  we  to  do?  Is  there  no  hope?  I  would 
rather  kill  this  fiend  with  my  own  hand  than  that  he 
should  take  you  from  me." 

"He  has  not  taken  me  yet,  and  I  mean  to  make  a 
fight  for  it,"  Herriard  assured  her,  assuming  a  confi- 
dence he  did  not  feel.  He  knew  his  enemy's  untiring 
vindictiveness  and  resource  too  well. 

For  a  long  while  they  talked  over  chances  and  expe- 
dients for  escaping  from  the  net,  spun  by  that  busy 
brain,  that  seemed  to  have  enmeshed  them.  The  pres- 


288  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

ent  moment  was  theirs,  with  its  mockery  of  freedom, 
and  it  seemed  monstrous  to  accept  the  future  with 
blank  despair.  In  the  end,  after  many  a  futile  struggle 
against  the  narrowing  circle  of  bands  that  was  drawn 
round  them,  after  many  a  suggestion  rejected  in  its 
very  conception,  a  course  was  decided  upon.  It  was 
that  they  should  be  married  at  once,  with  the  closest 
secrecy  that  might  hope  to  elude  even  Gastineau's  vigi- 
lance, and  that  they  should  leave  England,  as  already 
planned,  for  a  long  sojourn  on  Count  von  Rohnburg's 
Austrian  estate.  Certainly  it  seemed  but  a  poor  method 
of  securing  safety; — was  there  a  corner  on  the  globe 
where  a  man  might  hope  to  hide  from  that  inexorable, 
unswerving  pursuit? — still  there  was  the  chance,  the 
only  one,  of  snatching  a  fearful,  short-lived  joy  in  de- 
fiance of  the  incarnate  malignity  which  forbade  it. 

Once  decided  upon,  the  details  of  the  plan  were  soon 
settled.  A  special  license  would  be  procured,  and  the 
marriage  would  take  place  at  a  village  church  in 
Gloucestershire,  the  vicar  of  which  was  an  old  friend 
and  schoolfellow  of  Herriard's.  Then,  with  all  the 
wariness  and  secrecy  they  could  devise,  they  would  set 
off  upon  the  long  journey  to  Rohnburg,  trusting  to 
chance  for  safety,  and  to  the  improbable  event  that 
Gastineau  might  see  fit  to  abandon  his  scheme  of  per- 
secution and  pursuit.  At  least,  they  argued,  the  danger 
would  not  be  increased  by  the  change  of  locality.  He 
might,  indeed,  be  better  able  to  deal  with  his  enemy, 
should  he  follow  him,  in  that  remote  spot  than  in  one  of 
the  centres  of  civilization,  where  the  rules  of  law  and 
order  permit  no  drastic  measures  for  obviating  an  un- 
provable  danger.  Anyhow  at  Rohnburg  they  would  be 
man  to  man. 


THE  FACE  IN  THE  BOX  289 

A  very  few  days  saw  Herriard  quite  recovered  from 
the  hurt  which  had  by  good  fortune  just  fallen  short 
of  its  sinister  intent,  and  the  plans  for  the  hurried  mar- 
riage were  carried  through  without  a  hitch.  Both  Alexia 
and  he  felt  that  the  peaceful  village  church  in  its  pictur- 
esque seclusion  made  the  ceremony,  which  derived  an 
added  solemnity  from  the  threatening  cloud  of  the  un- 
known which  in  the  glorious  sunshine  grew  darker  by 
contrast,  fitting  indeed  to  a  union  set  in  all  the  ele- 
ment of  romance.  But  that  day  of  happiness  and  many 
that  followed  were  unmarred  by  any  sign  of  the  dreaded 
fate  that  should  be  dogging  them.  Whether  Gastineau 
were  near  or  far  from  them,  they  were  troubled  by  no 
suggestion  of  his  presence  or  intentions;  their  world, 
full  of  snatched  delight,  seemed  free  from  that  hateful 
influence. 

From  the  lovely  rural  nook  Herriard  and  his  bride 
made  their  way  across  country  to  Harwich,  thence  to 
the  Continent;  and  reached  Vienna,  the  penultimate 
stage  of  their  journey,  without  any  disquieting  incident. 

With  a  confidence  born  of  the  continued  immunity 
from  all  indication  of  danger,  they  determined  to  stay 
two  days  in  the  fascinating  Austrian  capital.  On  the 
morning  after  their  arrival  Herriard  happened  to  meet 
Dr.  Hallamar  in  the  Karnthnerstrasse.  An  impulse 
made  him  accost  the  great  specialist,  and  speak  of  the 
subject  which  dominated  his  mind.  After  a  few  words 
of  greeting,  he  said,  "That  was  a  wonderful  cure  of 
j'-ours,  Doctor,  in  the  case  of  Mr.  Murray." 

Just  a  film  of  caution  seemed  to  form  over  the  pro- 
fessional enthusiasm  which  illuminated  the  doctor's  face. 

"  Ah,  yes;  in  many  ways  the  most  remarkable  of  my 

experience.  Unfortunately "  he  broke  off,  eyeing 

19 


290  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

Herriard  doubtfully.  "A  singular  man,  your  friend 
Mr.  Murray,"  he  added,  tentatively,  it  seemed. 

"Very,"  Herriard  agreed.  ''You  refer  to  his  wish- 
ing to  keep  his  cure  a  secret?  " 

Hallamar  nodded,  throwing  out  his  hands  expres- 
sively. "Ach!  There  it  is, "  he  exclaimed  vehemently. 
"The  most  extraordinary  case  of  all  I  have  treated. 
The  most — I  say  it  without  vanity;  science  is,  as  I  follow 
it,  too  serious,  too  stern  in  its  reality  to  admit  of  that — 
the  most  surprising  cure,  utterly  unhoped-for;  I  can 
tell  you,  Mr.  Herriard,  I  undertook  the  case  with  great 
reluctance.  My  time  is  precious;  moreover  I  am  not 
fond  of  courting  failure,  and  charging  a  necessarily  high 
fee  for  a  foregone  disappointment.  But  there  was  some- 
thing observable  in  your  friend's  character  and  temper- 
ament which  induced  me  to  undertake  the  experiment, 
for  it  was  nothing  more." 

"He  is  a  man  of  great  determination." 

The  Professor  made  a  significant  gesture.  "Quite 
abnormal.  And  it  was  in  a  great  measure  to  that  we 
owe  a  cure  which  comes  as  near  to  a  miracle  as  science 
has  yet  attained.  Ah!  such  strength  of  will,  such  fix- 
ity of  purpose,  what  would  the  world  be  if  they  were 
general?  A  paradise  in  which  all  evils  and  difficulties 
would  be  overcome — or  a  hell  of  restless  intellect. 
Well,"  he  gave  a  shrug  and  a  smile,  "we  are  better  as 
we  are.  Nevertheless  your  friend  is  a  very  remarkable 
man:  it  is  a  personality  with  which  I  am  pleased,  as 
an  experience,  to  have  been  brought  in  contact." 

"I  can  understand  that,"  Herriard  said,  with  a  shade 
of  gloom.  "Then  Murray  was  practically  a  sound  man 
again  when  I  first  mentioned  him  to  you?  " 

"Certainly  he  was,"  Hallamar  answered  emphatically. 


THE  FACE  IN  THE  BOX  291 

"For  what  seemed,  even  to  me,  a  really  hopeless  case, 
it  was  an  astonishingly  quick  recovery  of  power.  He 
was  weeks  ahead  of  my  hitherto  best  patient.  But  then 
I  have  never  had  a  patient  of  his  character.  Yes;  he 
was  cured  when  you  first  expressed  a  wish  that  I  should 
treat  him.  And  I  may  say  I  was  much  surprised  that 
you,  his  intimate  friend,  should  have  been  kept  in  the 
dark. " 

"He  wished,  no  doubt,  to  give  me  an  agreeable  sur- 
prise," Herriard  explained  grimly.  "As  it  was,  I  found 
out  his  recovery  by  a  mere  accident. " 

"Ach,  so!  "  Dr.  Hallamar's  strong  face  wore  a  look 
of  sagacious  curiosity.  "It  is  strange.  Yes;  I  remem- 
ber he  sent  me  a  note  desiring  me  to  say  nothing  about 
his  recovery  to  you.  Ah,  a  man  of  singular  strength 
of  mind;  he  was  evidently  preparing  a  surprise  for  his 
friend.  You  are  his  great  friend;  not?  " 

The  question  was  put  so  abruptly,  so  pointedly,  that 
Herriard  was  startled  into  looking  up  quickly  into  the 
other's  face.  He  felt  that  Hallamar  was  trying  to  read 
in  his  eyes  the  true  state  of  his  relationship  with  Gas- 
tineau;  and  that  the  result  was  a  confirmed  doubt. 

"We  are  scarcely,"  he  answered,  "as  friendly  as  we 
were  once. " 

"No?  "  Hallamar's  manner  could  not  be  said  to 
express  even  a  polite  regret.  "Well,  perhaps  that  may 
be  not  altogether  a  bad  thing,"  he  suggested.  "Mr. 
Murray  is  too  clever  for  close  friendship  with  most  of 
us.  Such  towering  intellect  as  his  stands  better  alone. " 

With  which  significant,  if  equivocal,  comment  he  gave 
his  hand  to  Herriard  and  hurried  off. 

It  was  on  the  evening  before  their  departure  from 
Vienna  that  a  strange  experience  befell  them  which,  for 


292  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

a  time  at  least,  brought  back  their  fears.  Herriard  had 
taken  a  box  at  the  old  Burg  Theatre  to  see  a  famous 
melodramatic  piece  that  had  won  popularity  all  over 
the  Continent.  At  one  part  of  the  performance  the 
lights  in  the  auditorium  were  lowered  to  enhance  the 
effect  of  a  thrilling  scene.  Suddenly,  as  they  sat  in  the 
darkness,  Alexia  clutched  Herriard 's  arm.  "Geoffrey!  " 
she  exclaimed  under  her  breath. 

Under  the  impression  that  the  blood-curdling  busi- 
ness on  the  stage  had  affected  her,  he  gave  her  hand  a 
reassuring  clasp,  and  whispered  a  few  light  words  mak- 
ing fun  of  the  mimic  horrors.  But  after  that  first  start 
Alexia  had  quickly  recovered  her  self-possession.  She 
raised  her  fan  till  it  half  covered  her  face,  while  her 
eyes  were  directed  apprehensively  across  the  house. 

"Geoffrey,"  she  whispered,  coolly  now,  though  with 
an  intensity  of  repressed  fear,  "don't  look  yet.  In  that 
box  opposite,  next  the  stage,  a  man  is  watching  us. 
Be  careful." 

So  the  fear  had  returned.  Herriard  leaned  back  in 
his  chair  with  an  affected  yawn  and  looked  at  the  box 
Alexia  had  indicated.  It  was  the  only  one  on  that  side 
of  the  house  which  seemed  untenanted. 

"  I  can  see  no  one  in  it, "  he  said  in  a  low  tone.  "  The 
box  seems  empty. " 

"I  am  certain,"  she  whispered  back  behind  her  fan, 
"that  there  was  a  man  in  it  just  now.  I  saw  a  pair 
of  hateful  eyes  watching  us  out  of  the  darkness.  They 
have  disappeared  now;  but  I  am  sure  of  it." 

"Gastineau?  "  Herriard  dreaded  to  ask  the  ques- 
tion, yet  knew  there  was  no  safety  in  ignoring  the  worst, 
if  such  it  were. 

"I  cannot  be  certain,"  Alexia  answered,  and   the 


THE  FACE  IN  THE  BOX  293 

tremor  of  her  tone  seemed  to  belie  the  doubt  she  ex- 
pressed. "Is  there  another  man  on  earth  with  eyes 
like  his?  " 

Herriard  tried  to  laugh  reassuringly.  "Surely  that 
is  not  inconceivable,"  he  returned,  "especially  in  this 
cosmopolitan  city.  You  say  the  man  was  watching  us?  " 

"Yes." 

Herriard  strained  his  look  to  detect  a  sign  of  move- 
ment in  the  obscurity  of  the  apparently  empty  box. 
But  nothing  broke  the  dead  blackness  of  the  recess. 
"I  will  go  and  make  certain,"  he  said,  rising. 

"No,  no,  Geoffrey,"  she  objected  apprehensively, 
"stay  here;  you  must  not  go.  There  may  be  danger." 
And  as  she  looked  up  at  him,  he  could  see,  even  through 
the  darkness,  the  fear  in  her  eyes. 

"It  is  all  right,  darling,"  he  replied,  with  perhaps 
more  confidence  than  he  felt.  "I  have  my  revolver; 
there  can  be  no  danger.  Uncertainty  is  the  worst  now 
we  have  to  fear,  and  I  must  put  an  end  to  that. "  So, 
with  a  reassuring  caress,  he  left  her. 

Traversing  the  now  dimly  lighted  semi-circular  cor- 
ridor Herriard  made  his  way  round  the  house  till  he 
came  to  the  box  he  sought.  Somewhat  to  his  surprise, 
the  door  stood  ajar.  He  opened  it,  and  looked  in.  The 
box  was  empty. 

Having  convinced  himself  of  this,  Herriard  asked  the 
name,of  the  gentleman  who  had  occupied  the  box.  He 
was  told  that  through  a  misunderstanding  that  par- 
ticular box  had  not  been  let,  although  the  house  was 
otherwise  full.  When  he  insisted  that  it  had  been  lately 
occupied,  he  was  told  that  he  must  be  mistaken,  or 
perhaps  one  of  the  attendants  had  gone  into  it  for  a 
few  minutes  to  watch  the  great  scene.  Anyhow  the 


294  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

officials  were  certain  that  the  box  had  not  been  let  or 
regularly  occupied  that  evening. 

Considerably  relieved,  Herriard  went  back  to  Alexia. 
As  he  reached  her  the  curtain  fell,  and  the  lights  were 
turned  up  again.  "It  was  your  fancy,  dear  one,"  he 
said,  in  answer  to  her  apprehensive  look.  "No  one  was 
in  that  box.  I  searched  it  thoroughly  and  am  certain 
it  was  empty;  besides,  they  tell  me  it  was  not  let  to- 
night." 

He  was  troubled  to  see  that  she  was  not  reassured. 
"There  was  some  one  in  it,"  she  asserted  in  a  tone  of 
conviction.  "  Directly  you  had  left  me  the  door  of  that 
box  opened,  and  a  man  passed  out.  I  am  sure  of  that. 
I  distinctly  saw  the  light  from  the  passage  beyond,  and 
the  man's  figure  against  it. " 

"It  is  quite  likely,"  he  replied.  "The  official  whom 
I  spoke  to  suggested  that  one  of  the  attendants  went 
into  the  empty  box  to  watch  the  scene.  That  is  the 
real  explanation;  but  we,  having  Gastineau  on  the 
nerves,  are  liable  to  see  him  anywhere. " 

It  was  plain  to  him  that  Alexia  could  not  bring  her- 
self to  accept  the  explanation,  plausible  as  it  was.  The 
enjoyment  of  the  evening  was  gone;  they  soon  after 
left  the  theatre  and  returned  to  their  hotel. 

Neither  on  that  night,  however,  nor  on  the  next  day, 
which  was  passed  in  completing  their  long  journey,  did 
they,  although  keenly  alert,  see  anything  to  confirm 
their  uneasiness.  Gastineau,  if  it  had  indeed  been  he, 
was  a  man  easily  recognized,  but  their  watchfulness 
saw  no  one  resembling  him.  As  the  hours  wore  on, 
shortening  the  distance  between  her  and  the  home  she 
loved,  Alexia's  spirits  rose,  and  she  almost  succeeded 
in  persuading  herself  that  the  terror  of  the  night  before 


THE  FACE  IN  THE  BOX  295 

had  been  but  a  creature  of  her  nervous  fancy.  And  so 
it  was  in  a  happier  state  of  mind  that  they  caught  their 
first  glimpse  of  the  great  Schloss  Rohnburg,  standing 
in  romantic  picturesqueness  amid  its  setting  of  pine 
woods;  and  at  the  sight  of  the  noble  old  house,  welcom- 
ing them  in  all  its  peaceful  strength  and  beauty,  they 
forgot  their  fears  in  the  sense  of  security  it  suggested. 
Here  was  an  asylum  indeed;  a  delightful  refuge  from 
the  intrigues  and  dangers  of  the  outside  world.  They 
drove  into  the  courtyard  with  a  grateful  sense  of  relief, 
and  a  feeling  that  they  had  outstripped  their  Nemesis 
and  left  danger  far  behind  them. 

The  days  that  followed  confirmed  this  idea,  that  the 
security  for  which  they  had  scarcely  dared  to  hope 
had  been  attained.  The  estate  of  Rohnburg  seemed 
a  compact  miniature  kingdom,  in  which  Herriard  and 
his  bride  were  for  the  time  all-powerful,  and  from  which 
their  authority  would  serve  to  keep  any  threatening 
intruder  away.  Somehow  Herriard  felt,  as  he  explored 
the  place,  that  the  unwelcome  appearance  even  of  Gas- 
tineau  in  that  spot  would  lose  much  of  the  terror  which 
would  be  inspired  by  the  idea  of  his  tracking  them  with 
a  sleuth-hound's  tenacity  amid  the  labyrinth  of  a  pop- 
ulous city.  To  meet  an  enemy  in  the  open  should  have 
no  terrors  for  a  man  of  courage,  since  the  elements  of 
surprise  and  mystery,  which  beget  fear,  are  absent.  So 
Herriard  found,  as  the  days  passed,  that  the  haunting 
sense  of  an  impending  blow  coming  from  a  quarter  of 
which  he  was  uncertain  began  to  diminish.  In  an  at- 
mosphere of  security,  freedom,  happiness,  his  spirits  rose, 
carrying  Alexia's  with  them.  They  walked  together  in 
the  park  which  girded  the  Schloss,  strolling  along  wood- 


296  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

land  paths,  and  every  succeeding  day  they  went  farther 
afield.  At  first  their  walks  were  attended  by  a  furtive 
watchfulness  against  the  appearance  of  a  dreaded  form, 
for  a  hint  of  a  sinister  presence.  Nothing,  however,  oc- 
curred to  fulfil  their  expectation,  and,  by  degrees,  the 
strain  of  alertness  was  relaxed.  And,  while  it  lasted, 
they  neither  of  them  cared  to  let  the  other  know  how 
seriously  their  minds  were  haunted  by  the  ever-present 
misgiving.  For  a  brave  mind  hates  the  fear  that  is 
forced  upon  it  too  greatly  to  care  to  speak  of  it  where 
the  telling  can  avail  nothing.  And,  assuredly,  the  more 
reason  we  have  for  keeping  a  bold  face,  the  better  too 
it  is  for  the  beating  down  of  a  dread  which  is  nothing 
more  than  an  invitation  to  our  danger. 

However,  the  long  days  as  they  went  by  brought 
with  them  nothing  but  the  delight  of  lovers'  existence, 
without  sign  of  a  disturbing  element.  Their  heaven 
was  without  a  cloud  and  they  began  to  reproach  them- 
selves with  having  failed  to  enjoy  its  glory  through 
vain  fears  of  a  tempest.  So,  as  the  time  slipped  by, 
the  startling  events  they  had  passed  through  seemed 
nothing  more  than  the  recollection  of  a  troubled  dream, 
now  fading  in  the  light  and  joyousness  of  day.  The 
venerable  stronghold  which  was,  for  many  a  month  now, 
to  be  their  home,  imparted  to  their  hearts  its  sense  of 
calm  security.  It  was  fairy-land  they  had  reached  at 
last;  the  gloom  of  the  demon's  night  had  been  left  far 
behind. 

Yet  on  the  bright  sky  of  confident  happiness  a  little 
fleck  was  soon  to  appear,  the  precursor  of  cloud  and 
danger. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

A   PORTENT 

ONE  evening  the  monotony  of  the  Bernard's  de- 
lightful existence  under  the  shadow  of  the  grey 
old  Schloss  was  broken  by  the  appearance  of  a  company 
of  poor  strolling  players.  They  were,  it  appeared,  a 
band  of  humble  comedians  and  pantomimists  who,  in 
the  more  rural  and  remote  districts,  went  from  village 
to  village,  to  gain  a  precarious  livelihood  by  giving  a 
crude  medley  of  melodrama  and  farce,  interspersed  with 
singing  and  acrobatic  feats.  To  gain  permission  for  a 
short  performance  at  a  great  house  naturally  was,  when 
such  an  opportunity  presented  itself,  much  to  be  de- 
sired. It  meant  probably  less  work  for  a  greater  reward, 
compared  with  the  two  or  three  hours'  toil,  required 
to  conjure  kreutzers  from  the  thrifty  peasants'  pockets. 
Alexia  knew  this,  and  persuaded  her  husband  to  join 
with  her  in  sanctioning  the  humble  show.  Herriard  had 
at  first  shown  himself  a  little  dubious  as  to  the  wisdom 
of  inviting  strangers  within  the  precincts  of  the  castle. 
But  Alexia  quickly  laughed  away  his  doubts;  these 
strolling  mummers  were  familiar  visitors.  They  had 
made  their  appearance  there  at  more  or  less  regular  in- 
tervals ever  since  she  could  remember;  she  would  like 
to  hear  their  bombastic  nonsense  and  the  old  songs  once 
again  for  the  sake  of  old  times,  and  she  called  Gollmar, 
the  ancient  steward,  to  bear  witness  that  there  was  no 
harm  in  the  poor  fellows. 

297 


298  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

So  it  came  that  Herriard  readily  fell  in  with  Alexia's 
wish;  he  ordered  the  troupe  to  be  admitted  to  the  inner 
courtyard,  and  for  an  hour  they  laughed  together  at  the 
strange,  half-incomprehensible  performance  of  the  strol- 
lers. 

Certainly  they  were,  for  the  most  part,  a  strange, 
weird,  almost  forbidding  dozen  of  human  beings;  but 
then  in  stage-struck  peasants  from  the  wild  regions  of 
Austro-Hungary  one  would  scarcely  expect  to  find  the 
graces  of  players  drawn  from  more  civilized  surround- 
ings. When  the  performance  was  over,  Herriard  sent 
them  a  liberal  fee,  and  they  were  given  a  substantial 
meal  under  the  superintendence  of  Gollmar,  who  was 
directed  to  keep  his  eye  upon  them  until  they  were  once 
more  outside  the  gates. 

"It  was,  perhaps,  as  well,  gnddige  Herr,"  the  old 
man  observed  afterwards,  "to  keep  the  fellows  under 
observation.  Our  countrymen  have  a  saying,  'One 
coat  suffices  to  keep  warm  a  player  and  a  thief.'  Not 
but  what  these  scoundrels  are  good  honest  mounte- 
banks for  their  sort;  still,  there  was  no  harm  in  keeping 
them  from  the  temptation  to  pilfer.  Old  Karonsek, 
the  leader,  I  have  known  for  well-nigh  forty  years:  he 
has,  naturally,  a  reputation  to  preserve,  since  he  boasts 
he  has  never  seen  the  inside  of  a  prison;  but  the  younger 
men — "  he  gave  a  shrug,  "what  would  you  have?  A 
man  does  not  often  turn  player  till  every  respectable 
calling  is  closed  to  him,  and  our  proverb  says  a  man 
who  has  no  home  has  no  neighbours  to  call  him  thief 
when  he  steals.  But,"  he  added,  by  way  of  softening 
his  strictures  upon  the  average  morality  of  theatrical 
strollers,  "your  honour's  kindness  has  given  untold 
pleasure  to  the  household.  Few  amusements  come  our 


A  PORTENT  299 

way  in  this  remote  spot,  and  in  the  late  Count's  time 
we  always  made  the  humblest  strollers  welcome." 

Two  nights  later  Herriard  was  roused  from  his  sleep 
by  the  furious  barking  of  a  dog,  followed  by  a  man's 
angry  cry.  Snatching  up  his  revolver,  he  ran  down- 
stairs, and,  guided  by  the  sounds,  rushed  into  the  li- 
brary. The  moonlight,  streaming  in  through  the  half- 
open  window,  showed  him  one  of  the  men  servants,  Jan 
Martin,  leaning  over  a  writing  table,  his  hand  held  to 
his  chest,  while  he  was  almost  inarticulate  with  rage 
and  fear.  As  Herriard 's  approach  he  pointed  excitedly 
to  the  window.  "There!  He  has  gone  that  way.  A 
robber,  Excellency:  the  wretch  has  stabbed  me.  Quick! 
he  cannot  be  far  away.  Fritz  has  gone  after  him." 

With  a  word  to  the  wounded  man,  Herriard  passed 
out  by  the  window.  He  could  hear  Fritz,  the  wolf- 
hound, still  barking  savagely,  but  now  there  came  from 
him  a  howl  of  pain,  and  then  all  was  silent.  He  hurried 
forward,  and  about  a  hundred  yards  away  came  upon 
the  poor  animal  bleeding,  and  quite  disabled.  No  sign 
of  the  midnight  robber  was  to  be  seen,  although  Her- 
riard ran  in  pursuit  of  him.  But  the  plantation  at  which 
he  had  arrived  was  large,  its  paths  devious;  unless  he 
came  upon  him  by  chance  it  was  almost  hopeless  to 
expect  to  overtake  the  man.  Herriard  stopped  and 
listened.  Not  a  sound  was  to  be  heard  except  pres- 
ently that  of  running  footsteps  of  men  from  the  castle 
who,  headed  by  Gollmar,  were  coming  in  pursuit.  But 
half-an-hour's  energetic  search  by  the  party  brought  no 
result;  the  miscreant,  whoever  he  was,  had  made  good 
his  escape. 

As  Herriard  took  his  way  back  to  the  castle  his  ap- 
prehensions, which  had  been  lulled,  returned  in  full 


300  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

strength.  In  the  courtyard  the  poor  dog,  Fritz,  lay 
moaning  in  pain.  Herriard  examined  his  hurt,  which 
he  found  to  be  a  punctured  wound  just  below  the  throat. 
On  the  ground  beside  him  lay  an  object  which  Herriard 
eagerly  picked  up  and  scrutinized.  It  was  a  small  piece 
of  coarse  cloth,  evidently  torn  by  the  dog  from  the  in- 
truder's coat.  He  showed  it  to  Gollmar. 

"Ah,"  said  the  old  steward,  looking  critically  at  the 
fragment,  "it  is  as  I  suspected.  Certainly  one  of  the 
play-actor  fellows  who  were  here  on  Tuesday.  I  no- 
ticed one  or  two  knavish  faces  among  the  new  members 
of  the  troupe.  He  has  been  tempted  to  earn  a  year's 
pay  in  a  single  night.  A  daring,  beggarly  villian.  His 
after-thought  is  likely  to  mean  death  to  Jan  Martin,  if 
not  to  poor  Fritz  as  well.  Well,  if  Fritz  dies  there  will 
be  a  reckoning  to  pay  with  the  Count. " 

"You  think,  then,  it  was  one  of  those  wretched  fel- 
lows, the  players?  " 

"I  am  sure  of  it,  gnadige  Herr.  Look  at  this  scrap 
of  cloth.  It  is  of  the  coarsest  description.  Such  as 
would  be  worn  only  by  a  peasant  or  a  strolling  mounte- 
bank. And  no  peasant,  in  his  mind  or  out  of  it,  would 
dare  to  plan  a  midnight  robbery,  with  murder  if  need 
be,  at  the  Schloss  Rohnburg.  It  is  out  of  the  question. 
No;  this  evidence  points  to  one  of  those  ranting  tatter- 
demalions, who  have  the  wits  of  a  drunkard  and  the 
reverence  of  a  pig. " 

Gollmar's  manifest  conviction  of  the  man's  identity 
somewhat  reassured  Herriard,  and  he  was  able  to  relate 
the  affair  to  Alexia  without  communicating  to  her  the 
fears  he  had  at  first  entertained.  The  doctor  who  had 
been  sent  for  reported  Jan  Martin's  wound  as  not  dan- 
gerous; with  a  week's  quiet  he  would  recover  from  its 


A  PORTENT  301 

effects.  Fritz,  too,  had  had  a  wonderful  escape;  the 
evidently  hasty  stab  he  had  received  having  just  missed 
being  mortal. 

Still,  although,  providentially,  not  much  harm  had 
been  done,  the  affair  gave  Herriard  considerable  uneasi- 
ness. He  made  light  of  it,  since  there  seemed  no  ob- 
ject to  be  gained  by  taking  it,  outwardly  at  least,  more 
seriously.  Yet,  somehow,  it  contrived  to  give  him  an 
ever-present  conviction  of  impending  danger.  When 
he  reasoned  the  matter  out  with  himself  he  was  bound 
to  admit  that  the  common-sense  arguments  pointed  to 
the  confirmation  of  Gollmar's  simple  theory.  What 
more  likely,  he  asked  himself,  than  that  a  member  of 
a  lawless,  homeless,  strolling  party  of  mountebanks, 
recruited  probably  from  the  dregs  of  society,  if  not, 
indeed,  from  the  jails,  should  use  the  opportunity  of 
admittance  to  a  house  of  wealth  to  plan  an  attempt 
which  promised  a  tempting  haul?  Had  Herriard 's  mind, 
as  he  admitted,  not  been  full  of  Gastineau  and  his 
methods,  he  would  not  have  thought  to  question  the 
obvious  explanation.  As  it  was,  the  affair,  unpleasant 
enough  in  itself,  gave  a  disagreeable  shock,  the  effects 
of  which  did  not  leave  him  when  he  found  that  the 
harm  done  by  the  midnight  marauder  was  far  less  than 
it  might  have  been. 

But  the  days  went  by,  resuming  their  uneventful 
course.  A  week  passed,  and  at  its  end  both  man  and 
dog  had  quite  recovered  from  their  wounds.  Herriard 
began  to  think  that  it  had,  after  all,  been  a  case  of 
attempted  robbery  by  one  of  the  strolling  prayers. 
Enquiries  in  the  district  had  quite  failed  to  identify 
the  scrap  of  cloth,  and  the  idea  that  the  culprit  be- 
longed to  the  neighbourhood  was  scouted  by  every  one 


302  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

in  the  place.  A  watch  was  now  kept  every  night  in 
the  castle,  but  no  sign  was  detected  of  a  renewal  of  the 
attempt.  Naturally,  they  said,  the  players  were  now 
far  away.  On  the  night  in  question  they  had  been 
performing  at  a  village  but  a  few  miles  from  Rohn- 
burg. 

So  Herriard's  uneasiness,  having  nothing  new  to  feed 
upon,  gradually  subsided,  and  he  gave  himself  up  once 
more  to  all  the  charm  of  existence  which  that  romantic 
domain  afforded  him. 

One  day  it  was  announced  to  him  that  Fritz,  the 
wolf-hound,  had  mysteriously  disappeared.  He  had 
been  always  a  domesticated  animal,  content  for  the 
most  part  to  lie  basking  in  the  sun  on  the  terrace  or  in 
the  courtyard,  and  had  never  been  known  to  stray  far 
from  the  castle.  But  now  he  had  not  been  seen  for 
twenty-four  hours,  and  every  one  was  at  a  loss  to  ac- 
count for  his  absence.  His  wound  was  quite  healed, 
and  he  had  seemed  in  perfect  health,  although  one  of 
the  men  had  noticed  that  he  was  unusually  restless. 
Herriard  was  at  first  inclined  to  be  somewhat  perturbed 
by  the  occurrence,  till  one  of  the  foresters,  having  a 
peculiar  knowledge  of  animals,  adduced  a  theory  which 
tended  to  set  his  mind  at  rest.  The  dog's  behaviour, 
he  declared,  was  perfectly  explicable.  In  his  natural 
state  he  would  be  a  fierce,  marauding,  dangerous  ani- 
mal. His  real  character  had  been  tamed  and  held  in 
suspension  by  the  luxury  and  kindness  of  a  domestic 
life.  Now  the  hurt  he  had  received  had  roused  the  ani- 
mal's fiercer  nature  which  had  but  slumbered.  That 
this  was  the  case  had  been  indicated  by  the  dog's  no- 
ticeable restlessness;  he  had  now  assuredly  gone  off  on 
a  wild  hunting  prowl;  the  taste  of  live  blood  (he  had 


A  PORTENT  303 

doubtless  bitten  the  robber)  had  quickened  his  instinct, 
and  induced  a  craving  for  living  prey. 

With  this  explanation  Herriard  had  to  be  satisfied. 
He  ordered,  however,  a  thorough  search  to  be  made  for 
the  dog,  and  it  was  with  a  certain  sense  of  relief  that 
he  heard  this  was  unsuccessful;  he  had  feared  the  find- 
ing of  the  animal  dead  by  that  mysterious  hand  which 
his  fancy  would  picture  as  stretched  forth  against  him 
and  his. 

But  Alexia  laughed  him  out  of  his  fear  of  the  unknown. 
Was  not  the  world  smiling  on  them  with  all  the  de- 
lights of  an  ideal  existence?  What  sign  was  there,  save 
in  imagination,  of  the  danger  they  had  dreaded?  It 
was  a  sin  to  let  the  memory  of  a  trouble,  now  past  and 
gone,  destroy  the  delight  of  the  present  hour.  Paul 
Gastineau  was  not  a  fool  to  waste,  in  pursuing  them 
with  his  hatred,  time  which  might  be  spent  to  more 
advantage  in  opening  out  his  new  career.  Probably  he 
had  for  once  spoken  the  frank  truth,  and  was  by  that 
time  across  the  ocean,  eager  to  put  into  practice  the 
fresh  schemes  and  projects  of  his  busy,  ambitious  brain. 
In  the  weeks  they  had  spent  at  the  Schloss  Rohnburg 
what  tangible  sign  had  there  been  of  the  presence  or 
machinations  of  their  arch  enemy?  None.  If  he  had 
meant  to  strike,  why  this  delay?  He  was,  above  all 
things,  a  man  of  swift  action.  No.  Geoffrey  should 
not  worry  himself  any  more  with  those  fancies.  The 
danger  was  now  a  myth,  opposed  by  common  sense; 
if  it  were  real,  the  worry  would  not  keep  it  away.  So 
Herriard  resolved  to  be  guided  by  Alexia's  counsel,  and 
to  give  himself  up  thenceforward  to  the  full  enjoyment 
of  the  new  life  he  had  entered  upon.  After  the 
stuffy  turmoil  of  the  Courts  it  was  indeed  a  change 


304  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

full  of  delight,  a  life  never  even  dreamt  of  a  month 
before. 

There  was  plenty  of  sport  to  be  had  in  the  forest 
which  stretched  away  from  the  Schloss,  and  Herriard, 
with  the  enjoyment  of  one  for  whom  struggle  and  dan- 
ger had  suddenly  ceased,  threw  himself  with  zest  into 
the  novel,  emancipated  life,  and  wandered  every  day 
farther  in  pursuit  of  game.  In  the  still  depths  of  the 
forest,  in  a  fairyland  which  seemed  far  from  the  ken 
of  worldly  strife  and  schemes,  Herriard  felt  he  had  left 
the  events  of  a  few  weeks  back  years  behind  him;  he 
could  laugh  at  his  fears.  Paul  Gastineau  was  no  longer 
a  haunting  terror,  but  merely  a  strange  episode. 

What  creatures  of  our  impressions,  our  surroundings 
we  are.  How  one  mind,  determined,  inscrutable,  can 
dominate  a  weaker :  how  long  the  paralyzing  effect  of 
a  stronger  will  lingers,  to  be  weakened  and  at  last  ban- 
ished not  by  a  human  effort  but  by  the  external  agency 
of  a  changed  environment. 

Reflections  such  as  these  were  passing  through  Her- 
riard's  mind  as,  after  a  full  day's  sport,  he  sat,  tran- 
quilly smoking  a  cigar,  on  the  platform  of  an  ancient 
hunting-tower  which  stood  in  the  forest  depths  some 
two  or  three  miles  from  the  castle.  The  two  foresters 
who  had  accompanied  him  he  had  sent  home  with  the 
heavy  bag  of  game;  being  himself  somewhat  tired  with 
his  long  tramp,  he  had  thought  to  rest  awhile  before 
resuming  his  homeward  walk. 

The  tower  was  situated  in  an  open  clearing  where 
three  glades  met.  To  Herriard,  as  he  stretched  him- 
self comfortably  on  the  old  weather-beaten  benches, 
it  seemed  the  most  tranquilly  romantic  spot  in  the 
world.  All  round  him  from  the  sunlit  dell  rose  ma- 


A  PORTENT  305 

jestically  the  dark  violet  masses  of  the  vast  forest;  its 
density  pierced  by  the  three  moss-carpeted  roads  which 
the  tower  commanded.  The  day  had  been  hot;  a  hazy 
film  seemed  to  hang  over  the  dark,  illimitable  battal- 
ions of  pines,  standing  motionless  in  the  windless  at- 
mosphere. On  either  side  of  the  long  vista  which  lay 
before  Herriard's  idle  observation,  the  haze  seemed  to 
line  the  dark  walls,  fringing  the  avenue  beyond  the  line 
of  trees,  and  leaving  a  narrow  road  still  bright  and  clear. 
Presently  Herriard  became  conscious  that  far  down 
this  glade,  perhaps  half  an  English  mile  away,  a  figure 
had  appeared.  For  a  while  he  watched  it  lazily,  as  a 
break  in  that  magnificent  monotony  it  had  become  the 
most  interesting  object  in  sight,  and  it  amused  the 
watcher  to  observe  whether  the  figure  was  moving  to- 
wards the  tower  or  away  from  it.  Nearer,  surely;  but 
with  a  progress  so  slow  as  to  be  scarcely  perceptible. 
Herriard  took  out  his  stalking  glasses  and  brought  them 
to  bear  on  the  object  of  his  curiosity.  A  man,  a  bent 
old  man,  he  seemed,  carrying  a  load,  probably  a  faggot- 
gatherer  crawling  on  his  daily  round.  Herriard  put 
back  the  glasses — he  was  never  quite  free  now  from 
suspicion — and  contentedly  resumed  his  cigar.  Then 
he  fell  to  moralizing,  as  an  idle  man  will,  over  the  lot 
of  such  an  one  as  the  solitary  peasant  who  was  creep- 
ing slowly  towards  him.  Presently  as  he  looked,  the 
figure  bore  to  one  side  of  the  track,  and  next  moment 
vanished  in  the  curtain  of  mist  that  hung  before  the 
line  of  trees.  He  had  crept  off  by  some  forest  path, 
Herriard  conjectured,  with  a  slight  feeling  of  an  ended 
companionship.  For  in  that  place,  surrounded  by  the 
almost  oppressive  loneliness  compelled  by  nature  in  all 
her  unchallenged  predominance  and  autocracy,  even  the 
20 


306  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

distant  presence  of  an  obscure  peasant  creeping  labo- 
riously through  the  forest  ways  to  his  primitive  hovel, 
gave  a  welcome  touch  of  company.  But  he  was  gone 
now,  passed  out  of  his  observer's  life,  in  all  probability 
never  to  cross  his  way  again. 

With  that  thought  in  his  mind  Herriard  gave  an  ex- 
clamation of  surprise.  There  again  was  the  man  he 
had  seen  and  who  was  still  furnishing  a  text  for  his 
moralizing;  he  had  reappeared  as  abruptly  as  he  had 
vanished.  He  was  close  at  hand  now,  almost  under  the 
tower;  the  same  bent  figure,  bowed  beneath  a  bundle 
of  faggots,  and  using  one  as  a  staff  to  aid  his  steps. 

The  old  man  seemed  to  have  come  quickly  from  the 
point  where  he  had  disappeared  not  many  minutes  be- 
fore; if,  perhaps,  more  time  had  not  passed  in  the  in- 
terval than  Herriard  was  conscious  of.  The  man  came 
on  until  he  was  under  the  tower,  and  so  out  of  sight 
from  the  platform.  Herriard  was  debating  with  him- 
self whether  he  should  accost  the  solitary  creature  and 
brighten  the  day  for  him  with  a  present  of  a  few  florins, 
when,  somewhat  to  his  surprise,  he  heard  the  slow  foot- 
steps ascending  the  winding  stairs  of  the  tower.  Per- 
haps, he  thought,  the  old  fellow  is  accustomed  to  bil- 
let himself  here;  the  half-ruinous  building  is  useless 
enough ;  one  could  scarcely  complain. 

At  the  floor  below  the  footsteps  stopped  for  a  while: 
if  the  poor  man  was  resting  there  comfortably  Herriard 
f  would  not  disturb  him  unnecessarily.  No;  he  was  mov- 
ing about  softly;  now,  surely  he  was  on  the  stairs  again, 
coming  up  to  the  roof  platform.  It  seemed  a  strange 
thing  to  do;  the  reason  was  not  quite  obvious,  unless 
the  man  had  noticed  a  stranger  there,  and  was  coming 
up  to  beg.  Herriard  watched  for  his  appearance  with 


A  PORTENT  307 

some  curiosity.  The  ascent  sounded  hard  and  laboured, 
and  when  at  length  the  expected  figure  emerged  from 
the  trap-door  the  man's  back  was,  by  the  trend  of  the 
steps,  turned  towards  the  place  where  Herriard  sat. 
For  a  few  moments  he  seemed  to  fumble  with  his  neck- 
cloth, apparently  unaware  that  he  was  not  alone,  since 
he  took  no  notice  of  him. 

"What  in  the  world  is  he  doing?  "  As  the  remark 
was  uttered  half  aloud,  the  man  turned  quickly.  The 
unkempt  beard  was  gone;  and,  with  a  great  leap  of  the 
heart,  Herriard  found  himself  staring  at  the  face  of 
Paul  Gastineau. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE    LAST   MEETING 

IF  Herriard  had  had  for  the  moment  any  doubts  as 
to  Gastineau's  identity,  the  sneering  smile,  quiet 
and  purposeful,  would  have  set  them  at  rest. 

"At  last,  Mr.  Geoffrey  Herriard,  we  meet  again;  and 
finally,"  the  cold,  incisive  voice  said;  and  Herriard  knew 
that  the  crisis  of  his  fate,  possibly  his  last  minute  of 
life,  had  come.  For  as  he  spoke  Gastineau  drew  his 
hand  from  the  pocket  of  his  ragged  peasant's  coat,  and 
the  polished  barrel  of  a  revolver  glinted  in  the  sweep 
of  sunlight  that  poured  up  the  glade  and  struck  the 
tower.  The  action  was  characteristic  of  the  man,  busi- 
ness-like, yet  no  more  than  just  necessarily  demonstra- 
tive. But  it  contained  a  significant  suggestion  that 
resistance  was  futile;  it  said  plainly,  no  quarter. 

"I  am  sorry,"  Gastineau  proceeded,  as  coolly  as 
though  he  had  come  to  discuss  a  professional  matter, 
"to  be  obliged  to  interrupt  your  repose;  but  you  will 
understand  that  when  a  man  is  more  or  less  fighting 
for  his  life  he  cannot  afford  to  be  punctilious.  I  think, 
Herriard,  you  have  a  revolver  in  your  pocket.  Covered 
as  you  are  by  mine,  its  use  is  not  apparent.  Do  me 
the  favour  to  take  it  out  and  throw  it  over  the  parapet. 
It  will  obviate  any  preoccupation  in  our  talk. " 

He  came  to  within  a  few  feet  of  Herriard  with  his 
own  revolver  covering  the  other's  heart.  Herriard,  re- 
alizing his  helplessness,  took  out  his  weapon  and  threw 

308 


THE  LAST  MEETING  309 

it  over  the  embrasured  wall.  It  fell  noiselessly  on  the 
soft  turf  below. 

"What  do  you  want  with  me,  Gastineau?  "  he  said,  in 
the  dull  voice  of  a  man  who  sees  no  escape  from  his  fate. 

Gastineau  drew  back  a  few  steps,  and  seated  himself 
on  the  low  parapet  that  protected  the  stairway.  "A 
little  conversation  first  of  all,"  he  answered;  banter- 
ingly  it  would  have  been  but  for  the  suggestion  of  a 
dark  purpose  behind  the  easy  manner;  "a  few  minutes' 
talk,  and  then" — he  made  a  deprecating  gesture — 
"silence." 

The  word  was  ominous  and  struck  chill  to  Herriard's 
heart.  He  had  busied  his  mind  in  looking  for  a  way 
of  escape,  but  none  presented  itself.  In  the  sickening 
sense  of  despair  he  could  thank  Heaven  for  the  short- 
lived joy  and  love  that  had  been  his. 

There  was  nothing  he  could  say  to  any  purpose:  he 
felt  that,  and  waited  for  Gastineau  to  continue. 

"I  dare  say  you  were  weak  enough  to  imagine  you 
had  given  me  the  slip,"  the  chilling,  hateful  voice  re- 
sumed. "Certainly  it  is  a  far  cry  from  May  fair  to  the 
Schloss  Rohnburg,  but  then  the  necessity  of  self-pres- 
ervation cannot  stop  to  take  heed  of  time  and  space. 
It  may  astonish  you  that  I  have  seen  proper  to  take 
so  much  trouble." 

Looking  at  the  evil,  resolute  face,  Herriard  could  only 
wonder  how  he  could  have  been  fool  enough  to  imagine 
that  his  enemy  had  abandoned  the  set  purpose  of  his 
vindictiveness  and  self-interest  to  which  every  fibre  of 
his  proved  character  surely  held  him.  The  affair  of 
the  nocturnal  intruder  was  no  mystery  now,  if  ever 
doubt  on  the  matter  should  have  been  allowed  to  dwell 
with  his  knowledge  of  this  man. 


310  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

"You  talk  of  self-preservation,"  he  said,  with  a 
dulled  effort  at  reasoning,  for  the  word  seemed  to  mock 
him;  "as  though  you  were  convinced  I  had  some 
design  against  you.  I  have  none;  you  might  know 
it." 

Gastineau's  laugh  showed  him  that  the  protest  carried 
no  weight  with  him.  "My  good  fellow,"  he  returned 
patronizingly,  "you  scarcely  comprehend  my  position. 
It  is,  perhaps,  a  trifle  beyond  your  grasp.  Putting  aside 
for  the  moment  the  fact  that  you  have  done  me  the 
ill-turn  which  no  man  forgives,  and  which  was  in  your 
case,  I  suppose,  as  glaring  an  instance  of  ingratitude  as 
any  on  record,  let  me  put  the  situation  before  you  from 
my  point  of  view." 

"Yes;  let  me  hear  it." 

Herriard  felt  his  only  chance  lay  in  prolonging  the 
preliminaries  of  the  act  that  was  surely  meditated. 

Gastineau  was  lighting  a  cigarette.  "The  immense 
successes  the  world  has  wondered  at  have  been  gained 
through  foresight,"  he  said,  almost  meditatively;  "the 
great  failures  have  been  courted  by  want  of  it.  The 
man  who  cannot  see  beyond  his  nose,  who  takes  things 
as  they  are,  and  not  as  they  will  be,  can  never  have  a 
great  career  in  front  of  him.  Consequently,  my  good 
Herriard,"  he  blew  out  a  long  streak  of  smoke,  "I  am 
obliged,  unpleasant  as  it  may  be,  to  deal  with  you  not 
as  you  are  to-day,  a  comparatively  harmless  turtle-dove, 
but  as  my  prescience  tells  me  you  will  be  in  the  future, 
an  active,  threatening  danger." 

There  was  death,  Herriard  saw,  in  the  eyes  that  had 
marked,  in  the  mind  that  had  tracked  him  down;  no 
suggestion  of  relenting,  no  room  for  pity,  only  the  steely 
look  of  doom. 


THE  LAST  MEETING  311 

"No;  never  now  a  danger  to  you,  Gastineau,"  he 
said  with  dry  lips. 

The  other  smiled.  "I  can  read  your  future  better 
than  you,"  he  returned  equivocally.  "And  your  char- 
acter. My  four  years'  study  of  that  has  scarcely  gone 
for  nothing.  You  are,  perhaps,  not  exactly,  an  absorb- 
ing danger  at  the  present  moment,  in  the  present  year, 
if  you  like.  I  would  not  care  to  say  as  much  with  re- 
spect to  a  few  years  hence. " 

The  man  was  clearly,  grimly  settled  in  his  purpose; 
it  was  with  him  manifestly  an  affair  of  calculation  rather 
than  of  passion.  Despite  the  deep  purple  glory  of  the 
flaming  sunset,  the  night  seemed  already  enveloping 
Herriard,  as  he  stood  there  facing  his  doom.  To  him 
the  warm,  scented  air  was  chill  and  heavy;  the  gorgeous 
flood  of  sunlight  that  bathed  the  tower  was  lurid  and 
murky  as  a  torch  of  the  Inquisition.  But  he  kept  down 
the  betrayal  of  the  sickening  despair  at  his  heart,  an- 
swering his  master  quietly. 

"If  you  really  read  my  character,  Gastineau,  you 
must  know  that  it  is  far  from  being  restless  and  aggres- 
sive like  your  own.  With  me  it  is  live  and  let  live." 

"Ah!  "  Gastineau's  lips  were  contorted  sarcastic- 
ally. "A  very  apt  motto  at  the  present  juncture. 
Nevertheless,  one  requires  something  more  convincing 
than  a  trite  copy-book  text  to  persuade  one  of  the  de- 
sirability of  living  the  rest  of  one's  life  under  a  sword 
of  Damocles.  You  know  the  fable  of  the  wise  fool  who 
neglected  to  keep  his  pet  lion  cub's  claws  pared.  His- 
tory, my  good  fellow,  is  full  of  such  crass  omissions 
and  their  consequences.  So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  his- 
tory shall  not  repeat  itself. " 

There  was  hateful,  sneering  determination  in  the  man's 


312  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

face  as  he  spoke.  Herriard  knew  well  that  he  never 
relented,  and  wondered  why  his  enemy  did  not  make 
an  end  of  the  business  without  more  parley.  Gasti- 
neau's  hand,  grasping  the  revolver,  was  kept  well  in 
front  of  him,  the  wrist  forming  a  pivot  on  his  crossed 
knee.  A  struggle  was  clearly  out  of  the  question;  the 
alert  eyes  never  left  him,  for  all  their  owner's  mannered 
nonchalance.  A  sudden  spring  would  mean  a  bullet 
through  the  heart  before  it  came  to  a  grapple. 

"I  can  only  repeat,  Gastineau,  that  you  can  have 
nothing  to  fear  from  me."  Herriard  spoke  mechani- 
cally; the  suspense  was  numbing  his  mind;  suspense 
that  was  a  mere  question  of  time,  not  deliverance. 

Gastineau  smiled.  "If  I  am  far  from  believing  it,  it 
does  not  follow  that  I  doubt  your  sincerity  in  making 
the  declaration.  Only,  as  I  have  said,  fortunately  or 
unfortunately,  I  know  more  of  the  world  in  general  and 
of  Mr.  Geoffrey  Herriard  in  particular  than  does  that 
person  himself.  No,  my  dear  fellow," — there  was  a 
revolting  irony  in  the  term — "when  I  am  a  great  man, 
a  very  great  man,  as,  bar  accidents,  I  mean  to  be,  it 
would  be  a  quite  irresistible  temptation  to  one  like  your- 
self to  shake  the  ladder  just  as  I  had  reached  the  top- 
most rung.  Don't  protest;  I  know  human  nature.  The 
temptation  would  be  overpowering — I  don't  mean  to 
blackmail;  I  put  you  above  that — but  to  stand,  vir- 
tuously, public-spiritedly,  of  course,  in  my  way.  And 
it  might  not  be  as  easy  to  put  you  to  silence  on  that  day 
as  it  is  now.  A  man  is  a  fool  who  starts  to  climb  the 
highest  ladder,  leaving  at  the  foot  a  fellow  who  has  the 
power,  and,  maybe,  the  inclination,  to  twist  it  over." 

Herriard  kept  wondering  why  he  did  not  make  an 
end  of  his  talk. 


THE  LAST  MEETING  313 

"So  you  know,  or  think  you  know,"  Gastineau  went 
on  coolly,  "that  Martindale  owed  his  death  to  me?  " 

"I  know  nothing,"  Herriard  protested,  with  the 
vision  of  Alexia  before  his  eyes. 

"You  have  at  least  a  strong  suspicion,  which  is  suf- 
ficient for  my  purpose.  A  suspicion  shared  by  that 
astute  and  able  officer,  Detective  Inspector  Quickjohn. 
Ah!  I  am  sorry  for  you  both,  but  you  will  recognize 
that  it  would  be  sheer  folly  on  my  part  to  enter  the 
race  handicapped  by  the  extra  and  unnecessary  weight 
of  a  suspicion  of  murder. " 

His  tone  was  so  blandly  reflective  that  Herriard  re- 
garded him  in  surprise;  half  wondering  whether  he  was 
in  his  right  senses.  Nothing  but  the  dangling  revolver 
suggested  a  dread  intent. 

"Gastineau,"  he  said,  steadying  his  voice,  dry  and 
strange  from  the  desperate  fear  that  was  in  him,  "you 
are  hideously  wrong  in  thinking  me  likely  to  commu- 
nicate my  suspicions  to  any  living  creature.  And  you 
must  be  out  of  your  mind  to  imagine  that  taking  my 
life,  if  that  is  your  meaning,  will  clear  the  way  to  the 
goal  you  aim  at.  Do  you,  clever  man  that  you  are, 
suppose  that  you  can  kill  me  with  impunity?  That  my 
murder  will  not  turn  suspicion  into  a  certainty  leading 
to  the  gallows." 

Gastineau  listened  with  an  indulgent  smile.  "I  im- 
agine nothing  of  the  kind,  my  good  Herriard,"  he  re- 
turned. "In  the  first  place  I  am  not  exactly  going  to 
kill  you. " 

"Ah!  " 

"No.  You  are  going  within  the  next  few  minutes 
to  take  your  own  life,  being  burdened  by  the  idea  of 
a  false  position,  at  a  moment  when  I  shall  be  able  to 


314  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

prove  if  necessary  that  Paul  Gastineau  was  many  hun- 
dred miles  away." 

There  was  murder  in  the  face  now,  and  Herriard  set 
his  own  as  he  saw  it. 

"You  think  so?  " 

With  the  recklessness  of  desperation,  now  that  the 
passing  hope  had  vanished,  he  could  almost  chaff  the 
man  who  announced  his  doom. 

"I  am  sure  of  it." 

"  You  have  a  mighty  confidence  in  yourself  as  a  layer 
of  plans,  but  you  have  overlooked  one  circumstance 
which  will  surely  bring  you  to  the  scaffold. " 

"Indeed?     What  is  that?  " 

"Think." 

"I  am  in  the  habit  of  thinking,  as  you  should  be 
aware.  And  know  that  I  have  overlooked  nothing. " 

"Do  you  mean  to  murder  the  Countess  Alexia  as 
well?  "  Herriard 's  voice  half  broke  as  he  pronounced 
the  name,  and  he  knew  that  his  enemy  noticed  it. 

"Scarcely,"  Gastineau  answered,  with  his  air  of  su- 
perior wisdom.  "If  you  call  the  circumstance  of  her 
being  alive  a  danger,  it  is  one  that  I  mean  to  turn  into 
a  means  of  safety.  You  were  good  enough  just  now  to 
tell  me  to  think.  Let  deep  thought  in  turn  point  out 
to  shallow  surmise  that  the  very  factor  you  have  alluded 
to  in  the  case  is  in  reality  one  which  makes  your  death 
imperative.  If  one  may  take  your  look  for  one  of  in- 
credulity, I  will  explain." 

"If  you  please."  Was  there  no  chance?  Herriard 
was  searching  desperately  for  one  as  he  spoke  mechan- 
ically, his  life  passing  before  him  in  a  swift  panorama 
while  he  temporized  with  the  inevitable. 

Gastineau  proceeded,  speaking  as  casually  as  though 


THE  LAST  MEETING  315 

he  were  telling  a  story  in  a  club  smoking-room.  "The 
only  person,  besides  myself,  who  knows  the  real  truth 
of  the  affaire  Martindale  is  the  Countess  Alexia.  She 
knows  it  because,  as  you  may  be  aware,  I  have  told 
her  what  happened.  Apart  from  shrewd  suspicion  and 
fairy  tales,  conjectures,  which,  as  we  know,  go  for  noth- 
ing in  the  Law  Courts,  what  the  Countess  knows  is  the 
only  tangible  piece  of  evidence  which  could  condemn 
me  for,  say,  manslaughter.  There  are  two  ways  of  se- 
curing myself  against  the  appearance  of  the  Countess 
in  the  box  against  me;  the  more  agreeable  of  the  two 
is  to  marry  her.  But  that  is  at  the  moment  impossible 
owing  to  a  slight  obstacle,  the  fact  that  the  lady  is,  I 
believe,  at  present  your  wife.  Now,  perhaps  you  begin 
to  take  in  the  situation?  " 

Herriard's  brain  was  busy  with  futile  searching  for 
a  way  out  of  it.  He  at  least  took  in  his  adversary's 
fixity  of  purpose.  He  nodded  gloomily  in  reply.  Ar- 
gument was  now  clearly  out  of  the  question.  The  re- 
solve of  a  man  who  glories  aggressively  in  his  intellect 
is  merely  clenched  by  opposition. 

"Then,  apart  from  the  Countess's  widowhood  being 
a  sine  qua  non,"  Gastineau  continued,  in  the  same  cold, 
level  tone,  "there  is  the  account  of  our  rivalship  to  be 
settled.  That  has  been  held  throughout  the  ages  to  be 
a  more  than  sufficient  reason  for  bloodshed,  for  a  fight 
a  entrance.  There  has  never  been  room  in  the  world, 
even  when  it  was  less  crowded,  for  two  lovers  of  the 
same  lady.  The  angle  of  love  is  now  acute,  now  obtuse; 
it  is  never  a  triangle. " 

"It  has,"  Herriard  retorted,  "always  been  the  world's 
code  in  such  cases  for  rivals  to  meet  and  settle  the  mat- 
ter on  fair  and  equal  terms. " 


316  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

Gastineau  smiled. 

"Not  always,  by  any  means,  my  dear  Herriard. 
Your  history  is  at  fault.  In  fact  it  has  almost  inva- 
riably and  proverbially  been  the  custom  for  a  rival  to 
take  any  advantage  that  chance  might  offer  him.  Duels 
on  so-called  equal  terms,  for  there  really  never  was  such 
a  thing,  have  been  resorted  to  only  where  other  means 
of  elimination  were  not  practicable,  or  where  one  of 
the  parties  was  smart  and  skilful,  the  other  a  chival- 
rous, incompetent  fool.  I  don't  take  my  history  from 
the  story-books." 

"The  fool,"  Herriard  urged  hopelessly,  "had  at  least 
a  chance,  if  a  poor  one.  He  was  not  butchered  in  cold 
blood. " 

Gastineau  shrugged. 

"The  fool  had  the  satisfaction  of  dying  with  a  weapon 
in  his  hand,  against  which  advantage  must  be  set  the 
fact  that  he  left  behind  him  the  reputation  of  not  know- 
ing how  to  use  it.  But,  my  good  fellow,  when  you  talk 
of  advantage,  surely  you,  who,  when  I  was  crippled, 
had  such  a  pull  over  me,  are  not  going  to  complain  now 
that  the  tables  are  turned  and  the  balance  properly  ad- 
justed in  the  proportion  of  our  respective  intellects." 

"If,"  Herriard  returned,  touched  to  justify  himself, 
"I  took  advantage  of  your  condition,  it  was,  as  you 
know,  unwittingly." 

"I  grant  you  that,"  Gastineau  assented  readily. 
"But  when  the  position  was  readjusted — for  I  would 
not  have  played  the  dog-in-the-manger — and  your  mis- 
take was  pointed  out,  you  refused  to  correct  it.  You 
cannot  deny  you  were  warned;  but  it  was  to  no  pur- 
pose. It  were  idle  to  argue  that  the  lady  prefers  you; 
that  is  merely  an  additional  reason  for  your  removal. " 


THE  LAST  MEETING  317 

He  rose  with  an  action  as  though  to  throw  the  end 
of  his  cigarette  over  the  parapet,  but  checked  it  cun- 
ningly, to  drop  the  stub  of  tobacco  on  the  floor,  and 
stamp  it  to  atoms.  Herriard  understood  the  astuteness 
that  meant  to  leave  no  incriminating  evidence  of  its 
presence.  Then  Gastineau,  with  a  passing  scrutiny  of 
the  revolver,  raised  his  eyes  to  Herriard 's  face. 

"Time  is  up,"  he  said  incisively,  with  an  ominous 
squaring  of  the  jaw.  "I  have  given  you,  as  between 
man  and  man — I  was  going  to  say,  old  friends — my 
reasons,  more  sufficient,  perhaps,  than  agreeable.  After 
all,  under  the  veneer  of  civilization,  the  rough,  barbaric 
sense  of  self-preservation  is  to-day  as  firmly  existent  as 
ever.  You  have  played  a  risky  game,  Herriard,  and 
have  lost  it. " 

He  paused,  looking  at  Herriard  as  though  he  expected 
him  to  make  some  reply.  For  a  few  moments  the  two 
men  stood  gazing  into  each  other's  eyes;  and  there  was 
death  in  both.  The  sun  had  sunk  below  the  level  of 
the  massed  pine-trees,  and  now  flooded  the  long  avenue 
with  blood-red  light.  To  Herriard,  in  that  supreme 
moment,  in  the  exaltation  of  his  senses,  the  sounds  of 
the  forest  came  with  abnormal  distinctness.  The  whole 
affair  seemed  a  dream,  even  to  his,  its  victim's,  tantal- 
izing helplessness.  Gastineau,  with  all  his  set  malignity 
of  purpose  indexed  in  his  hateful  face,  seemed  unreal. 
Herriard  made  a  desperate  effort  to  tell  himself  of  his 
danger,  of  his  mad  folly  in  submitting  tamely  to  his 
death  like  a  decrepit  hound.  At  least  it  was  better  to 
die  in  an  attacking  rush  than  passively  standing  still. 
He  would  accept  his  fate  no  more  than  its  justice. 

As  he  gathered  his  nerves  for  a  spring  which  he  knew 
must  be  into  eternity,  since  the  deadly  barrel  covered 


318  THE  MASTER-SPIRIT 

him  steadily,  pitilessly,  he  was  surprised,  so  far  as  any- 
thing could  touch  him  then,  to  see  Gastineau  turn  half 
away  with  a  curiously  apprehensive  change  of  counte- 
nance. Now  or  never  was  his  chance.  He  gave  a 
great  leap  forward  to  throw  himself  upon  his  enemy. 
Gastineau,  turning  quickly  from  what  had  drawn  off 
his  attention,  sprang  aside  with  a  devilish  gleam  of 
combat  in  his  eyes,  and  raised  the  revolver.  He  fired; 
but  Herriard,  at  close  quarters  now,  had  clutched  his 
arm,  and  the  bullet  went  wide.  Next  moment,  with  a 
sharp  jerk,  Gastineau  had  torn  himself  free  from  the 
grasp,  and,  with  a  great  backward  spring,  reached  a 
practicable  firing  distance.  As  the  revolver  was  swiftly 
brought  down  to  the  aim,  and  Herriard  was  madly  throw- 
ing himself  upon  his  death,  there  came,  though  neither 
of  the  men  more  than  vaguely  noticed  it,  a  sound  as  of 
a  leaping  rush;  then  the  angry,  attacking  snarl  of  a  dog; 
and  next  instant  Gastineau  was  flung  staggering  against 
the  parapet,  with  the  wolf-hound,  Fritz's  fangs  gripping 
his  throat.  Then,  in  a  moment,  he  rallied  from  the 
shock  and  surprise,  and,  bringing  the  muzzle  of  his  re- 
volver to  the  dog's  breast,  he  fired.  With  a  savage  howl 
and  a  convulsive  effort  the  animal,  who  had  for  the  in- 
stant relaxed  his  hold,  darted  his  head  forward  in  a 
renewed  attack.  With  his  left  hand  trying  to  thrust 
back  the  dog,  and  his  face  working  with  rage  and  pain, 
Gastineau  raised  the  revolver  to  cover  Herriard  who  was 
trying  for  an  opening  to  seize  his  enemy.  As  he  did  so, 
the  half  ruinous  masonry  of  the  parapet,  against  which 
man  and  dog  were  pressing,  yielded  to  their  weight. 
It  gave  way;  and,  with  a  cry,  Gastineau  and  Fritz  went 
over,  falling  with  the  crushing  masonry  sheer  forty  feet 
on  to  the  flagstones  which  were  set  round  the  tower. 


"  Gastineau,  with  a  great  backward  spring,  reached  a  practical 

firing  distance." 
The  Muster  Spirit]  {?*£* 


THE  LAST  MEETING  319 

With  a  swift  sense  of  relief  at  his  deliverance,  Her- 
riard,  trembling  from  the  horror  of  the  business,  looked 
over  the  edge  of  the  tower.  Below,  where  they  had 
fallen,  lay  man  and  dog  in  their  blood,  and  without  sign 
of  life.  Gastineau's  grey  face,  with  eyes  that,  through 
the  mean  disguise,  seemed  to  glare  up  at  him  with  a 
vindictiveness  that  death  could  not  kill,  was  the  face 
of  a  dead  man.  Herriard  instinctively  knew  that.  He 
drew  back,  and  went  softly  down  the  winding  stairs  of 
the  tower.  On  a  table  in  the  lower  room  lay  his  gun. 
The  cartridges  had  been  extracted.  He  slipped  others 
in,  and  went  outside. 

The  first  thing  he  saw  was  his  revolver .  which  Gas- 
tineau  had  made  him  throw  away.  He  took  it  up,  and 
went  on  round  the  tower  towards  the  place  he  dreaded. 
There  they  lay;  his  enemy  and  his  preserver;  still,  as 
only  they  lie  who  will  never  move  again.  A  glance  now 
sufficed  to  tell  Herriard  that  his  fears  were  at  an  end. 

Nerving  himself  with  the  remembrance  of  his  late 
danger,  he  stooped  and  raised  Gastineau's  head,  the 
head  that  had  plotted  such  evil  against  him,  and  which 
now  lay  twisted  unnaturally  away  from  his  shoulders; 
then  he  gently  let  it  rest  on  the  stones  again.  The  dead 
man's  neck  was  broken.  Bar  accidents,  he  had  said; 
and  already,  by  a  swift,  dramatic  stroke,  the  accident 
had  come.  Fate  had,  in  an  instant,  brushed  away  the 
carefully  spun  web  of  the  ambitious,  relentless  schemer. 
With  a  sigh,  and  with  a  caressing  touch  for  poor  Fritz, 
Herriard  turned  from  the  shattered  abode  of  that  master- 
spirit who  had  been  so  strangely  both  friend  and  enemy 
such  as  few  men  have  owned ;  and  took  his  way  towards 
home  and  Alexia,  a  free  man. 


A  New  Romance  of  Old  Quebec 


IN 
TREATY  WITH  HONOR 


By   MARY   CATHERINE   CROWLEY 

Author  of  "  A  Daughter  of  New  France,"  "  The  Heroine  of  lha 
Strait,"  etc. 

Illustrated  by  Clyde  O.  De  Land.      12mo.     Decorated  Cloth. 
$1.50 


This  romance  of  old  Quebec  is  full  of  human  interest. 
Its  events  have  to  do  with  a  stirring  and  intensely  dramatic 
episode  never  before  touched  upon  by  any  novelist,  the 
Patriot  "War,  or  Struggle  of  French  Canada  for  Independ- 
ence in  1837-38. 

The  story  tells  with  dash  and  verve  the  fortunes  and 
loves  of  an  ardent  young  volunteer,  born  under  the  British 
flag,  but  educated  in  Paris,  and  by  adoption  a  citizen  of  the 
United  States,  and  of  his  comrade,  a  European  aristocrat 
who  had  also  joined  the  French  Canadians.  Two  of  the 
best  characters  in  the  book  are  a  noble  English  officer  and 
his  sweetheart  who  rivals  the  heroine  in  the  affections  of 
the  reader. 

The  novel  deals  with  mirth,  adventure,  and  tragedy, 
holding  one's  interest  by  the  author's  power  of  graphic 
description.  The  pathos  is  lightened  by  humor,  and  the 
love  scenes  are  as  charming  as  those  of  "  A  Daughter  of 
New  France,"  the  first  book  which  gave  Miss  Crowley  a 
high  place  among  American  novelists. 


LITTLE,   BROWN,   &   CO.,   PUBLISHERS 
254  WASHINGTON  STREET,  BOSTON 


:  By  far  the  best  he  has  yet  written  " 


A 
MAKER  OF  HISTORY 


By  E.  PHILLIPS  OPPENHEIM 
Illustrated  by  Fred  Pegram.     12mo.     Cloth.     $1.50. 


A  thoroughly  exciting  and  skilfully  written  romance. 
—  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

Thoroughly  readable  and  exciting.  Carries  the  reader 
along  breathlessly.  —  New  York  Sun. 

So  entertaining  that  we  read  through  at  a  sitting.  — 
New  York  Tribune. 

Not  since  the  days  of  "The  Prisoner  of  Zenda"  has 
a  more  enjoyable  novel  come  out  of  the  romantic  semi- 
humorous  mazes  of  European  border  intrigue.  The  story 
proceeds  with  cumulative  interest  to  the  end.  —  New  York 
Times. 

The  most  fascinating  novel  yet  written  by  this  master 
of  the  art  of  story  telling.  —  Rochester  (N.  Y.)  Democrat 
and  Chronicle. 

Really  remarkable  in  the  ingenuity  and  consistency  with 
which  the  complications  are  managed.  —  Outlook,  New 
York. 

The  most  daring  and  the  most  consistently  sustained  of 
his  many  stories,  and  is  heartily  recommended  to  seekers 
for  exciting  reading.  —  Life,  New  York. 


LITTLE,   BROWN,   &   CO.,   PUBLISHERS 
254  WASHINGTON  STREET,  BOSTON 


the  Author  of  "  The  Master  Spirit " 


A 
PRINCE  OF  LOVERS 


By  SIR   WILLIAM   MAGNAY 

Author  of  "  The  Red  Chancellor,"  "The  Master  Spirit,"  etc. 
Illustrated  by  Cyrus  Cuneo.     12mo. 
Cloth.     $1.50. 


A  remarkable  story  of  love,  adventure,  intrigue,  and 
outlawry ;  a  network  of  romance,  at  once  thrilling  and 
absorbing.  This  must  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  romances 
of  the  day  —  vigorous,  skilful  in  plot,  and  delightfully 
entertaining.  —  Boston  Transcript. 

The  plot  of  this  novel  is  surprising,  the  scenes  of  ad- 
venture and  conflict  vivid,  the  love  story  charming  and 
attractive.  —  Philadelphia  Ledger. 

A  powerful  tale,  full  of  human  passion  and  human  in- 
terest. There  is  life  and  movement  on  every  page. — 
Boston  Herald. 

A  spirited  story  of  intrigue  and  adventure  in  two  inde- 
pendent States  of  old  Germany.  A  glowing  and  charming 
picture  of  true  love.  The  plot  is  developed  with  rare  in- 
ventive skill  and  cumulative  interest.  —  Philadelphia  North 
American. 


LITTLE,   BROWN,  &   CO.,   PUBLISHERS 

254  WASHINGTON   STREET,  BOSTON 


"Sidney  McCalFs"  New  Japanese  Romance 


THE  DRAGON  PAINTER 


By  MARY   McNEIL  FENOLLOSA 

Author  of  "  Truth  Dexter,"  "  The  Breath  of  the  Godt,"  etc. 

Illustrated.     12mo.     Cloth.     $1.50 


Written  with  unusual  power  by  one  of  the  few  authors 
capable  of  interpreting  the  inner  life  of  the  people  of 
Japan,  "The  Dragon  Painter"  holds  the  reader  spell- 
bound. 

Kano  Indara,  the  last  of  his  race  and  the  last  of  a 
mighty  line  of  artists,  despairs'  of  finding  a  true  artist 
—  a  Dragon  Painter  —  to  inherit  his  name  and  the  tra- 
ditions of  his  race.  An  untamed  mountain  artist,  Tatsu, 
a  painter  of  dragons,  is  sent  to  him.  Kano  shows  him 
his  daughter,  Ume-ko,  and  the  youth  looks  upon  her  as 
the  Dragon  Maid,  for  whom  he  has  long  been  searching. 
The  story  of  their  betrothal  and  the  subsequent  dramatic 
events  are  all  depicted  with  the  same  care  of  workman- 
ship and  brilliant  background  that  have  characterized 
this  author's  previous  books. 

"The  Dragon  Painter"  is  a  fresh,  original,  absorbing 
story,  wholly  oriental  in  coloring,  displaying  a  remark- 
able acquaintance  with  Japanese  life  and  character  which 
made  "The  Breath  of  the  Gods  "  one  of  the  notable  novels 
in  current  literature. 


LITTLE,   BROWN,   &   CO.,   PUBLISHERS 
254  WASHINGTON  STREET,  BOSTON 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  L1BRARVFACJL|TV 


